


Jitterbug

by Skaurple



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Dark Comedy, Dark Fantasy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Not Beta Read, Pre-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, Violence, and yeah it is but, descriptions of death, its a holiday fic yall, its as wacky as it is morbid, ok i know these tags make this story seem hella morbid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21609619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skaurple/pseuds/Skaurple
Summary: Klaus has always lived life like there was no tomorrow. On New Year's eve, life without a tomorrow becomes reality.After making a few reckless life choices, Klaus is led to his tragic death(s) and he meets the "ghosts" of his past, present, and future.OR Russian Doll/Christmas Carol AU
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 20
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been working on this for a while and I'm excited to finally share it! For those who have no seen Russian Doll, you should! But I think you will be able to follow this story nonetheless. Knowing the general gist of Christmas Carol would help tho. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy reading. And sorry for any mistakes, no betas here. 
> 
> And to reiterate, trigger warning: blood, descriptions of death

Water spurted wildly out of the facet like a broken sprinkler. The bowl was cracking, the nozzle quaked, a thunderous roar came through the pipes. It was no surprise Griddy’s restroom was just the same after seventeen years. Klaus cupped the pouring water into his hands and splashed it against his face, feeling the odd thrill of being awake but then the disappointing realization that, _oh,_ he’s _actually awake_. A look at the wall mirror told a comedic yet tragic story of a gothic circus performer; black mascara tears running down his pale and bony cheeks, hair puffed up and untamed.

The buzzing fly running circles under his nose was the only thing distracting him from the deceased janitor by the toilet. Carl wiped the same spot on the concrete wall for countless hours yet the green gunk remained. He was blind; two hollow and bloody caves were all that was left. Ethics in mind, would it be selfish to withhold mentioning the pointlessness of Carl’s mopping or would it be a cautious decision to allow him to live in this oblivious state of purpose even if that purpose is as insignificant as wiping green gunk off the wall? Klaus kept quiet and his attention on the buzzing fly. It crawled into a hole hidden behind the mirror and he envied it’s easy escape.

He gulped down a tiny tablet, which very well may just be mint that had lost its flavour found deep in his pocket of lint and wrappers. It was the first “stress reliever”, as he liked to call it since his exit out of rehab which had to be some kind of record. All his “prescribers” had their schedule booked for the holidays, and even if they were available, money was tight-- or rather nonexistent in Klaus' equally nonexistent wallet. Thus the two pesky days of sobriety. It all had to be some kind of sick joke played by God; She never was fond of Klaus.

The door swung behind him as he left the washroom. Upbeat music from the jukebox echoed through the dim hallway and in an interesting coincidence, the beat matched the flickering ceiling lights. One could imagine being led into a rave of heroin-induced partygoers but instead, Klaus was greeted with the melancholy scene of an empty diner. Diego, fiddling with a butter knife and judging its blunt ends, sat in the corner booth. There were new stitches in his sweater and a purple bruise right below his right eye. Other than that, he looked the same as he did the last they met three months ago when the air was fresh with pollen and the crunch of leaves could be heard beneath their feet. Now they dealt with cold, mushy snow and prickly icicles forming at the ends of their nostrils.

Diego glanced up from the silver utensil and Klaus twinkled his fingers in the air. In return, Diego held a frosty stare, always the benevolent gentleman. “What’s funny?” He asked Klaus who took a seat adjacent to him, chuckling.

“Nothing,” Klaus answered with a shrug. “Just a rather lively tune you’ve chosen considering the circumstances and all. I’m not complaining, It’s a flattering welcome.”

Diego squinted at the jukebox then back at Klaus. “You think I wasted 25 cents to play a shitty song?”

Offended, Klaus inhaled sharply and held his chest, mimicking the dramatics of a theatre student. “Shitty? Did I hear that right? Did you just call the iconic, _Wham_ shitty? My own brother? My own flesh and blood-”

“We’re adopted.”

“...called _Wham_ shitty.” He wiped a fake tear from under his eye with a napkin, texture like sandpaper, “A monster you’ve become these past few months, I see.”

Diego didn’t react. There was a pause. “When’d you get out?”

At his blunt question, Klaus’ eyes narrowed down. Suddenly needing something to do, he began folding the napkin into rectangles then squares. “Two days ago.”

“Why didn't you call?”

“Forgot your number.”

“You know where I live.”

“So?

“You could’ve come over.”

Klaus’ nose scrunched. “And risk walking in on you and your lady friend going to _poundtown_? Hilarious, but no thanks.”

The truth of the matter was, he passed Diego's place about five times since he left rehab. It was nearby when he stumbled upon a narrow alleyway and found a hunched individual wrapped in a terribly patterned blanket (neon yellow and blue zig-zags). He wore plastic 3D glasses like a scholar, and from that detail alone Klaus deemed him trustworthy. They slept huddled together buried under the ugly blanket until Diego found and dragged Klaus to Griddy’s Doughnuts at 6:00 PM.

Their conversation drifted when the tired yet chirper waitress came to their table with plated food, a feast for Klaus and a plain bagel for Diego. Klaus stuffed his cheeks like a squirrel preparing for hibernation, and Diego murmured, “Are you trying to choke?” to which Klaus paused in thought, then shrugged in response. The food was delicious and choking to death would have been the cherry on top.

The vivid memories that Griddy’s Doughnuts provided were of Klaus’ siblings escaping the mansion at midnight when they were younger and forced to be together. Five was the luckiest, given he escaped at a young age when there was still a bit of innocence left in him. Passing his empty room, his siblings envied him. Once they were wise enough to leave the mansion on their own, they scattered; one sibling 4,062.6 km away to Hollywood, and more importantly, away from nostalgia. The rest stuck around the city but avoided contact like it was the plague, or at least they tried.

It had been later in the hour when Diego paid for their meal and offered Klaus a place to stay.

“It’s your giant, beating heart that makes you my favourite brother, Diego,” Klaus gushed and waved off the hurt gasp from a familiar ghost who sat in the boost behind them. “But I actually have someplace to be tonight.”

“ _Bullshit._ ” scoffed the ghost. At the same time, Diego asked, “Where do you have to be?”

“I don’t know yet, however, I’m sure I can find a distraction weaving through the fifty different ragers occurring as we speak,” said Klaus with a wink.

“So, you’re not staying sober.” Diego gathered. It was a statement drenched in an unsurprised disappointment rather than a question.

Klaus answered anyway, “Holidays are my off days, and so are the weekends. Today happens to be both.”

Diego looked at him for a silent moment before leaning back against his seat. “I just don’t get it, man. You lasted three months of sobriety, why not another three?”

“You think I've been sober for three months?” He hid his mischievous grin under his hand. “I mean, of course, I've been sober for three months, and I think it's about high time I treat myself.”

“I think it’s about high time you get your head out of your ass,” said Diego.

Klaus chuckled, “Lovely imagery, brother. Have you considered writing poetry?”

“I’m being serious,” said Diego. “you’re destroying yourself and it’s nauseating to watch.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“It’s obnoxious. I can’t keep dragging you out of alleyways because you’re too lazy to get your shit together.”

Annoyed, Klaus looked off to the side, lips pursed and eyebrows knitted together like a teenager unwanting to be bothered. “I never even asked for your help in the first place.” He murmured.

“Yet you accept the help anyway,” said Diego.

“It’d be kinda bit rude for me not to,” said Klaus. “You don’t just decline a dinner invitation from your brother. And I’m pretty sure without my presence you’d just be a very sad, and very lonely man in a diner, eating a very boring bagel; so you’re welcome.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Diego paused for an answer, then his posture straightened, eyes popping out at a sudden realization. “Wait, do you think I'm doing all this,” He gestured around the empty air and empty plates in front of them. “for myself?”

Klaus shrugged lamely, “I don’t know, probably.”

“You think I’m doing all this,” Again, Diego gestured around the empty air, his speech slower and more urgent for a clear answer this time, “because you think I need someone to have dinner with?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Diego.”

“Klaus, I didn’t invite you to dinner, I had to drag you to it. And before that, I was on my way to the precinct to pick up my ‘ _lady friend_ ’ so we could celebrate the New Year together. That was until I found you spooning a seventy-year-old hipster with bronchitis. So trust me, this right here,” He gestured the open air more rapidly and aggressively this time, “is not something I want to be doing right now.”

“I was just taking a nap. You could’ve just left me alone.”

“You’d be dead.”

Klaus’ cunning smirk emerged once again, a terrifyingly hopeful spark in his eyes, “Even better.”

Diego's phone rang before anything else could be said. There wasn’t much to say, anyway-- or rather Klaus did not care to hear more of Diego’s life advice given in the most hostile manner.

After Diego's phone call, Klaus requested Diego have him be dropped off at the subway station and once again, declined his offer to stay at his place. The slippery roads and snowfall made the ride painfully slow, or perhaps it was Diego being petty and purposely wasting Klaus’ time as payback for apparently doing the same to him (their history of painful wedgies and endless slap fights proved the latter to be most likely). At arrival, Klaus was left standing outside the entrance of the subway with a few coins, a twenty-dollar bill and a crumpled piece of paper with Diego’s phone number on it. The car drove off, once Klaus descended down the stairs.

It would be when Klaus was attempting to jump over the fare gate, his other disgruntled brother appeared out of thin air and said, “You know what would be great? If you at least tried not to get arrested this week” and Klaus rolled his eyes before sacrificing his coins at the collector’s booth.

Ben was sweeter when he wasn’t dead. He left all his shits to give up in the physical world and it disintegrated with his scattered ashes. What replaced it was sass and sarcasm fuelled by the bitter memory of being killed at the age of seventeen. The entire world hadn’t witnessed the peak of his most awkward years, and magazine articles didn’t even bother to add him to their iconic listings of _The Hottest Umbrella Academy Members, RANKED!_ On top of that, death was incredibly dull. Communication was limited and Ben couldn't hold a remote to change the television channel when he wanted to. Reading snobbish paperbacks and nagging Klaus were some of the only forms of entertainment he had these days.

“You should’ve stayed at Diego’s.” He began with a tired sigh. The two brothers sat a few seats away from each other in the nearly empty subway car. Ben held a newspaper while Klaus focused his gaze down at his chipped nail polish.

“You should’ve done a better job of staying alive.” Klaus murmured back.

Ben grimaced sourly at him. “I wish you’d just take a look around and realize there’s more to life than snorting cocaine and getting high. The opportunities of being alive are right in front of you!” He ignored Klaus gagging and went on with his thought, “You could read a book, or visit a lake and go fishing--”

“Yeah, ‘cause fishing in the dead of winter would be a splendid way to pass the time.”

“You could go to a concert!” Eyes lighting up, Ben flipped his newspaper to point at an advertisement. It was for a fifteen-dollar orchestral performance at 8:00 PM.

“That’s just tragic,” Klaus scoffed. “Seriously, who the hell is going to pay actual money for a symphony orchestra concert on New Year's Eve?”

“We are.”

“Wrong answer. Ninety-year-olds. Ninety-year-old grandpas who keep their pet parrots in fancy silver cages are going to pay money for a symphony orchestra concert on New Year's Eve. And, judging by your adorable little scowl, you’ll probably be there as well.”

Ben rolled his eyes before deciding that arguing had not been as fun tonight. His attention reverted back to the newspaper in hand.

The rumbling tracks beneath led the train out of its dark tunnels and introduced the quiet night. Stars were hidden by the yellow city lights, making the full moon appear isolated in the dark and eerie skies. A robotic voice echoed throughout the train, announcing they were soon to arrive at the next stop. Tired passengers had gotten up, stumbled from the motion, then exited once the doors opened only to be replaced by more tired passengers. Klaus remained comfortable on his stained seat, and the train moved forward.

“Where are we going?” Asked Ben, sounding reluctant to be curious.

Klaus shrugged unhelpfully, resting his head on the pole in front of him. He mumbled, “The hell if I know,” and as they entered back into the sinister and pitch-black tunnels, he’d fall asleep.

Nightmares were common, a mundane chore at this point. The ghosts of those seen and heard only by Klaus lurked in the back of a mind; skin grey, hair stringy, eyes bloodshot red. They desperately itched for an escape, screaming in foreign languages that Klaus had a difficult time translating. When he awoke, chest rapidly rising and falling, the nightmare continued with an elderly woman standing in front of him, nose to nose. Holes leaking thick blood replaced her ears, and as if just noticing, she screeched on the top of her lungs. Klaus bolted, his billowing coat nearly caught between the train’s automatic doors. He’d fall on to the train platform, landing on his side. Eyes stuck wide, he rested his head between his knees, hands clasping against his ears for complete silence.

* * *

Ben had caught up with Klaus later when he found his way out the subway station. They walked along the slippery sidewalks of an unfamiliar part of the city. The buildings were taller and the windows were not covered by offensive graffiti or cracked by drunk lurkers with rocks to throw. A taxi pulled up near where Klaus and Ben stood and out came businessmen in fancy suits, ties hanging from their necks. Their strong stench, a delightful combination of boos and cigars, lingered in the fog of their breath.

One snobbish gentleman had blown strawberry smoke into Klaus’ face as they passed to get through the entrance of a Japanese restaurant. Though chuckling devilishly, his bold eyes lingered on Klaus for a moment too long. Intrigued by this little hint of desire, Klaus awaited for the snobbish gentleman by a bus bench nearby. “Careful, Klaus...” would be Ben’s last warning before Klaus would hiss and shoo him away. The snobbish gentleman had left the restaurant without his friends, and called a taxi with his arms interlocking Klaus’.

He was a noticeable improvement from Klaus’ usual endeavours. Instead of a motel room infested with asbestos or an apartment roaming with rats, he was taken to a luxury penthouse with high, spiky gates and all. Female guards stood by the doors, tasers by their sides and ready to strike. Klaus was carried up the golden spiral staircase and onto the king-sized bed.

* * *

With a fluffy robe from the bathroom, Klaus stood outside on the balcony and smoked a cigarette. The snoring of the snobbish businessman had left Klaus with a headache, and he had to pull the man’s heavy arm off his waist, leaving him flat on his chest with a silky blanket covering his backside. His name was lost in their conversation earlier in the taxi; his fingers brushing against Klaus’ thigh was a generous distraction. But from digging through his wallet, Klaus had found the name Lawrence Kelly on his credit card which Klaus pocketed, along with a few hundred dollar bills.

There were a few tidbits of the conversation he did remember in the taxi; Lawrence was from out of the city and visiting for business. He had invested in a store that sells whatever and was checking up on the owners or something. He also, apparently, owned the stores and nightclubs beside it. Along with being a white-collar stereotype, he was a professor at a university who, maybe, most likely, taught Business 101 if that was a thing. (If there’s one thing you should take from this janky-ass bio, it’s that Klaus would make an excellent wiki page writer)

From the balcony, Klaus pinpointed his next travel destination. What lay ahead was a street festival of drunks playing with firecrackers they purchased from the row of vendors. Food trucks parked nearby and sold fatty foods before customers could make their resolution of eating healthier a reality. The generic mix of Christmas music coming from the crowded street was a bit much, but the bright red neon lights waving at all sorts of directions attracted Klaus, much like a moth fluttering around a hanging porch lanterns swinging in the wind.

He changed back into his clothes and added a few rings and bracelets to his wardrobe stolen from the ensuite. Down the stairs to the living room, he shuffled through a shelve of baseball memorabilia and unopened records ready to be auctioned off for thousands-- a healthy amount to fund Klaus' addiction for a month or two.

“Klaus, you shouldn't be messing around with this guy. “

“Geez Louise!” Klaus blurted at Ben’s lack of introduction. He whipped his head over, seeing Ben’s back turned and eyes focused on something on the wall. “How long have you been perving around for!?”

“I wasn’t perving around. I’m just looking out for you.” Said Ben, looking over his shoulder and a flattered Klaus batted his eyelashes. Ben rolled his eyes, “Seriously. You’re gonna want to put your souvenirs back where you found them”

“I highly doubt he’ll be crying over a few missing rings. He’s like, a bajillionaire or whatever.” Assured Klaus.

“Yeah, I don’t think a bajillionaire would be teaching at a university.”

“Wait, you were there for that conversation? Oh, my God, are you really that bored you have resorted to spectating my dates?”

“I’m in purgatory, of course, I'm bored.”

“Well, if you need a new book to read, I suggest you read the room because when a moment of sexual bliss is occurring then that’s your cue to leave.” Sexual bliss was a bit of a reach, it was mediocre at best—a solid 4/10, a generous 4.1/10 maybe—but there was no point mentioning the obvious. “If that doesn’t interest you, the Bible has about a thousand chapters for you to distract yourself with.”

Ben waved off his suggestion and said, “Can you be serious for a second?” He then gestured to the glass display he had been staring at. It contained a scary amount of weaponry. “He has guns.”

Klaus stood silent for a moment, taking in the intimidating sight. “Okay well, I appreciate the suggestion, but I think it’d be a bit morbid for me to be stealing guns--”

“I’m not telling you to steal the guns, Klaus, I'm telling you to stop stealing because he has guns,” Ben clarified. “If he catches you stealing his stuff, chances are he'll bang your brains out.”

“He already did. Up top!” Klaus raised his palm in the air but when an unamused Ben left him hanging, Klaus gave himself a high-five.

With a sigh, Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even know why I try anymore. You’d think I'd learn after being stuck with you for ten years that nothing I say will ever change the fact that you are the most morally corrupt and selfish person I'll ever know.”

“Yeesh, that’s a bit harsh.”

“Well, the truth is harsh, Klaus.”

He groaned and threw his head back, “Ugh, fine! I’ll put some of the bajillionaire’s stuff back--”

“All his stuff.”

Klaus blew a raspberry at him before stomping back upstairs to return the items. When they ditched the penthouse, he kept the secret of still having Lawrences’ wallet hidden in his pocket, along with a golden ring.

Granted, it wasn’t a well-kept secret.

Klaus was immediately exposed when he had taken out a hundred-dollar-bill to pay for a fifteen-dollar case of beer at a convenience store on their way to the street festival. Also, the ring shimmered on his finger when the neon lights of the open sign flashed.

“Goddammit, Klaus!” Ben yelled, following Klaus out of the store and into an active road. “I can’t keep watching you put your life on the line day after day after day! Honestly, the bit is getting kinda old!”

“So sorry for not being entertaining enough for you— really, it is dreadful— but If you’re so offended then stop watching.” Suggested Klaus. “I don’t understand why everyone thinks they’re my babysitter. I can take care of myself.”

Stopping in the middle of the road, Klaus turned to face Ben. A car drove through his ghostly brother, though he didn't flinch. He just crossed his arms and muttered, “Alright, fine. Best idea you’ve had all night. See what it feels like to be truly alone, maybe then you’ll realize how ridiculous you’re being.”

Turning on his heel, Ben walked the opposite direction and Klaus cried without much passion, “Oh nooo, don’t gooo...”

“Have fun getting murdered tonight! And get off the road, you’re being a nuisance!” were his parting words. He disappeared under a shining lamp post as if abducted by God herself.

Still in the middle of the road, a vehicle violated Klaus’ eardrums by the deafening honk of its horn. He spazzed out in shock before flipping off the truck driver. His journey continued towards the obnoxious music and red lights.

* * *

Klaus took a swig of his first opened beer of the night once passing the entrance banners of the festival and into the hyper environment of partying people. The concert stage was where most visitors went, while others lined up at the street vendors to buy too expensive glow sticks. Klaus chugged all six beers by the time he found a few high college students squished on a single bench sharing a joint. They were waiting for the firework show to commence, both afraid and exhilarated for what weird effect the colourful sparks of light and loud noises will do to their drugged up systems. Curious as well, Klaus sat next to them on the snowy ground beside the bench. He nearly fell asleep to the students’ conversation about a novel they had been reading in their Short Story course (It was as if Ben never left, the son of a bitch).

An ear-piercing banging noise brought Klaus’ head to lift back up and his eyes widened. Wild screams set alarms in Klaus’ head, but when taking a frantic look around, he realized people were cheering. In the sky, a bright explosion of red accompanied the once isolated moon. Another pop came, then another, then another.

Everyone stopped in their path to admire the fireworks, some smooching their partners, others greeting each other a happy new year. The college kids were the only ones to congratulate Klaus for surviving another year. He would have extended the sentiment back if he hadn’t been squinting at something in the distance.

Through the celebrating crowd, his blurred vision caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure, eyes locked with his instead of the light show in the sky. The shadowy figure disappeared when someone walked in front of them with their arms raised to take a video on their film camera. Uneasy, Klaus rubbed his eyes and shook his head. It was probably just Ben already breaking his promise of staying away.

Stealing soggy fries by an unoccupied picnic table, Klaus moved deeper into the crowd and towards the concert stage. He watched an unknown band play a rock and roll version of Jingle Bells and was proudly one of the three audience members not dancing. The other two stuck out like a sore thumb despite their all-black attire. It was the fact they were twins with vibrantly dyed bangs, tasers by their hips. They stood at Klaus’ side, seemingly scooting closer and closer as the song went on.

Klaus, in the most unsubtle way possible, dropped his fries on the ground and yelped, “Whoops!” while bending down to pick them up. When the twins reached the spot where Klaus was, he had already crawled away and made his escape.

Klaus was running and trying not to slip on ice now, the twins following behind. He had a few guesses of who they were working for (he’s made a concerning amount of enemies throughout his lifetime) but when he caught one of them muttering “the emo twink is running north, ring is in possession” into her radio, it became clear they were doing Lawrences’ bidding.

He left the festival and headed for a nightclub nearby, jumping over the rope barriers and under the bouncer’s legs. A quick wardrobe change was done at the coat check, as he stole a lovely pink cowboy hat that was a bit too big for his head, along with rose-coloured sunglasses, and a long trench coat taken straight out of Inspector Gadgets closet. In his new persona, Klaus moved on to the dance floor of party people and matched their bouncing movement.

He ended up against a wall near a hallway. The neon sign above him flashed ‘V.I.P’. Beside the sign was a pretentious painting with golden frames surrounding a portrait of someone equally pretentious. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me...”

The painting was of Lawrence, all high in mighty with his nose tilted up like he smelled something bad. The painter screwed up his eyes, they were definitely not ocean blue and lips were not as plush.

Klaus had no time to critique the painting further once spotting the twins and an added addition, the bouncer, were coming close. Klaus slipped into the hallway and it offered him several paths. The first door was locked, the second lead to a bedroom covered in rose petals with a speaker blaring Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get in On, the third introduced the cold December air and he hopped out into the alleyway.

Right as his feet touched imprinted the snow, a silver pistol was pointed at his sweaty forehead. Grey eyes— not ocean blue— stared down at him in distaste.

Klaus cleared his throat before putting on a toothy grin, “Fancy seeing you here, Monsieur!”

“Don’t be cute.” Lawrence pushed the barrel of the gun to touch Klaus’ skin, fingers hovering over the trigger.

“I can’t help it.”

His finger twitched. “You really thought you could swindle a swindler?”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying!” Klaus chuckled, face then dropping quickly. “So are you gonna shoot me or what?”

Lawrence thought about it for a second, eyes breaking contact in a moment of unsureness. He shrugged. “Not unless you give my shit back, then maybe I’ll think it over.”

Klaus nodded. It was fight or flight now. Flight flashed urgently in his head. “Okay, fair enough. Let me just--” He slowly reached for the wallet in his pant’s pocket and Lawrence’s eyes followed. With his attention averted, Klaus took a chance and swung a punch into his jaw. At the same time, he snatched the gun out of his grip. Lawrence landed on his back on the snow-covered ground, and Klaus with a devilish smirk cast a shadow over him.

At this point, the twins and bouncer found Klaus kicking him between the legs and yelling, “Who’s the twink now, bitch!?” Klaus then let out a bullet in the sky and the sound exploded in the empty air at the same time fireworks were released.

The twins and bouncer flinched when met with Klaus’ craze-filled eyes and he pointed directly at them. Wisley, they dropped their tasers on the ground. Klaus kept their weapons and instructed them not to follow him. He left the alleyway, spinning the gun with his fingers and headed for the busy streets.

As much as he hated to admit it, the Umbrella Academy taught him well. Sure, Sir Reginald’s was a grade-A-dickwad, but he did provide his students with a plethora of life skills to ensure they exceeded what was expected of them. The result of it was damaged adults with a distinct memory of the first million digits of Pi.

Now, I request you to look around and ensure no one is lurking over your shoulders. For the sake of maintaining Sir Reginald’s reputation, it is advised to keep this particular detail that is about to be shared under wraps. See, there had been one lesson Sir Reginald had forgotten to teach. Arguably, a lesson every child should learn. It may have been lost within their packed days of intensive training and crammed classes, or he just deemed it unimportant. Whatever the excuse was, It would bite Klaus in the ass.

Klaus made it halfway across the street when there it was again; the deafening honk of a horn rupturing his eardrums. Turning at the sound, he was greeted by the blinding headlights of a truck heading his way.

It would have been helpful at this particular moment if Sir Reginald had taught the children the importance of looking both ways before crossing the street. If he had done so as he did teaching the Pythagorean theorem, maybe Klaus would not have ended up flying across the road, then skinned by the rough concrete. Maybe he would not have landed on his head and have his skull cracked open. Maybe he would have all his bones attached, and all his blood contained in his body, instead of it oozing into a sticky puddle beneath him. If Klaus had just learned to look both ways, maybe he wouldn't be dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F’s in chat for ya boi
> 
> My plan is to update this every Sunday during the month of December ... but no promises!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied about updating every sunday, ur getting this chapter early whether u like it or not

Water spurted wildly out of the facet like a broken sprinkler. The bowl was cracking, the nozzle quaked, a thunderous roar came through the pipes. It would not be a surprise if Griddy’s restroom remained just the same seventeen years later.

Klaus promptly twisted the facet shut.

“What the flying fuck--” For the briefest moment, he had blanked out and forgot how to breathe. Granted, that was pretty on-brand for his usual nights out but, as he looked around the familiar washroom, it was if he hadn’t gone out at all.

A look at the wall mirror told a comedic yet tragic story of an insomniac who had one too many cups of caffeinated coffee: wide eyes unable to blink, hands vibrating like a jackhammer. After triple checking, he found his bones were in the correct sockets. His ribs were not shattered. His skin was not scarred by the rough surface of the concrete road.

Klaus winced at the knock at the door. He opened with caution. It took him a moment to familiarize himself with the elderly who stood on the other side, however, the mop in his hands and the grey jumpsuit proved him to be Carl the janitor. Carl’s eyes were attached; an elegant forest green. He appeared with fewer wrinkles, along with a full head of hair but a long frown remained.

Klaus reached his hand towards Carl and it rested awkwardly on his chest, confirming that Carl was, indeed, a solid as opposed to a transparent ghost, like he always was.

Carl cleared his throat after a minute. “Please, stop touching me”

“Hm? Oh, sorry.” Klaus patted Carl's chest before accepting Carl’s statues of apparently being alive.

Klaus walked slowly down the hallway, staying close to the graffitied wall. The jukebox replayed the same buoyant tune as it did in his previous nightmare—yes, nightmare, that’s what it was— and the flickering lights matched the beat. He was greeted with the melancholy scene of an empty diner. He sat on a squeaky stool, accompanied by no one but the waitress behind the counter.

On the counter, there was an outdated newspaper sitting by its lonesome. The front page caught Klaus' attention: a black and white photo of the Umbrella Academy was displayed proudly. The team stood triumphantly in their matching uniforms with charming smirks across their faces just like how they’d practise in the mirror. According to the article, on the 31st of December 2001, they had stopped yet another bank robbery. Klaus remembered the mission only vaguely. His stitches and scars substituted his faulty memories.

“Aren’t they somethin’ special?” Klaus looked up from the paper, meeting eyes with the waitress. She smiled sweetly at him as she collected dirty plates.

A dry chuckle escaped Klaus’ lips. “Sorry to rain on your parade, but I’m pretty sure they’re all dead by now.”

“Oh… What makes you say that?”

“Lifes been a toxic bitch.”

At Klaus’ response, the waitress’ sweet smile turned nervous and she left to do the dishes.

He glared back at the staged picture despising its hidden reality. There had always been the unanswered question of whether or not they were really a family. They were often referred to as a team, but that was different. The _Umbrella Academy_ was a team. The _Hargreeves_ were supposed to be a family. They probably did care about one another, they probably did love each other, they definitely didn’t like each other. Klaus pondered on the demoralizing thought as bells chimed from customers entering through the doors.

They were a group, a loud and kinda obnoxious bunch but that's par for the course when children were involved. Klaus buried himself further into the newspaper to block out the creepy giggling. This weak strategy of avoiding contact was quickly shut down minutes later when he found a milkshake spilling onto his lap. The icy substance running down his legs prompted a shriek of an impossibly high octave. At the same time, the kid who spilled the milkshake snickered and exclaimed an innocent, “Whoops!”

Whatever fiery rage spiked in Klaus at this second had quickly turned into shell-shock when meeting eyes with the scrawny boy. They were wide and naive and yet to be deprived of hope completely. Right below his peepers was a genuine smile unlike the one displayed in the newspaper. Again, Klaus forgot how to breathe.

They were the same person yet with different identities. The scrawny kid who grinned widely had no name, but an assigned number: Number Four. He offered Klaus a few napkins before heading to the corner booth where he joined the rest of the numbers. An odd family portrait formed: Number Four sat next to Number Three, who hooked her arm around Number One’s. Seconds later, Number Four would knock down Number Two’s bubbly soda onto his lap. They would participate in a slap fight while Number Seven shared a look with Number Six trying to read a novel.

The missing number sat on the stool beside Klaus and sipped black coffee. After taking a moment to allow the bitter flavour to soak his tongue he said, “I see the future has done you no favours. You look like shit.”

Number Five’s scowl looked the same as it did the day he stuck it to their father and disappeared completely, but the tired yet sophisticated manner he basked in the glory that was caffeine made him appear older than he actually was. Hesitantly, Klaus leaned closer to the boy and inspected his facial details; the scattered moles like stars in the night sky, his sunken eyes with a blue sharply piercing through. He looked real. He looked alive.

Klaus let out a mini gasp. “Am I getting Punk’d?”

Number Five squinted at him. “What the hell is a Punk’d?”

He snapped his fingers like he had cracked the code. “That’s exactly what Ashton Kutcher would say.”

“Who the fuck is Ashton Kutcher-- don’t answer that.” Number Five held out his palm before Klaus could elaborate. “I nearly forgot how much of a bumbling idiot you are after all these years.”

“Or am I just high?” Klaus considered. It was a questioned directed more to himself. He dug into his pocket of lint and candy wrappers, then revealing a tiny white tablet between his fingers. “Is this what’s inflicting me into this hell-induced fever dream?”

He got his answer when Five splashed his boiling hot coffee into Klaus’ face. The result of it was a burning sensation and a red hue overtaking his pale skin.

“Protocol,” Five shrugged as Klaus screamed into his hands. “Saves more time on the whole bullshit ‘ _this is all a dream_ ’ theory.”

“Okay, terrific!” Exclaimed Klaus with bitter sarcasm. “Then what the hell is happening, asshole?!”

“There’s a lot to catch up on but I'll make things short,” He sipped the last few drops left in the cup before setting it down on the counter. “For the last fifty years, I’ve been working for a time travel organization dedicated to modifying our timeline.”

Processing his words, Klaus peeked his eyes between his fingers. “fifty years?” He repeated skeptically. “I know you were like the equation wiz when we were kids, but I’m pretty sure It’s only been eighteen years since you waved us goodbye.”

Five scoffed. “That’s absurd. It may have been eighteen for you, but I’ve lived far longer than that”

“Wait a tick, wait a tick, so you didn’t die? Or get kidnapped? Or get raised by a family of street raccoons? When you left the academy, you--”

“Went forward in time into the future. It’s shit by the way.”

“What are you doing here then?”

“I’m on an assignment and Klaus, you’re my subject,” He answered. “Apparently, you’ve caused unwarranted disruptions within the timeline. I’m here to fix the damages.”

“Huh.” Klaus hummed thoughtfully. “Could you possibly recall the damages specifically? ‘Cause, I’ll admit, my track record is not the most elegant but I doubt I’ve done anything to the extent of damaging the timeline, or whatever the hell that means.”

“Frustratingly enough, I’m not a hundred percent certain as to what exactly you’re doing to screw up the system so badly—I’m just a pawn in this corporate steaming pile of shit, but my boss insists this is the only way things will be fixed, and the only way you will learn.”

“ _The only way I will learn_?” Klaus echoed. “And what way would that be, exactly?”

“For the full duration of this assignment, you’ll be visiting three different points in your life, each of which plays a significant role in pushing the timeline in the right direction. Currently, you’re in the past.” That much was obvious with the mini Umbrella Academy running around Griddy’s like it was a daycare. “We have travelled you back in time from the moment you died on January 1st, 2019 to December 31th, 2001.”

Klaus’ blinked at him. “Holy shit. I actually died?”

“Don’t act so surprised.”

“I’m more so disappointed. Seriously, all life’s bullshit led me to becoming roadkill?” He sighed wistfully “I was hoping to go in a more spontaneous way, maybe have a miraculous explosion involved. Am I dead right now?”

“Not _quite_.” Five was careful with his answer. “We’ve taken you to a point in time where you’re still able to exist and communicate with people. If we were to put you at any point beyond the moment you expired, you’d just be an apparition.”

“Gotta say, for the brief moments I’ve experienced, I think I prefer being dead.” Granted, he didn’t remember much. It was more of a fade-out and then a quick cut back to reality within the duration of a few milliseconds.

“Don’t we all?” Five murmured. “Anyway, I’m going to need a verbal confirmation that I will have your full corporation in this assignment before I execute the next course of action. Are you in?”

Klaus sighed longingly in thought. “I don’t know, the whole ‘ _A Christmas Carol_ ’ thing is a bit overdone, don’t you think?”

Five looked at Klaus like he was dumb. “What did you just call it?”

Klaus looked at Five like he was dumb. “Y’know, ‘ _A Christmas Carol_ ’? The Charles Dickens tale? Or, if you’re bourgie, you could be more familiar with the 2009 hit animated movie starring Jim Carrey.”

“Klaus, this isn’t some work of fiction. This is real, this can potentially determine the fate of humanity.”

“It can also potentially earn you a copyright claim.”

“Klaus--” Five paused, pinched at the bridge of his nose and breathed sharply. “Forget it, time is of the essence.” From his breast pocket, he took out a rustic pocket watch and it swung on its golden chain back and forth. “And, of course, we’re already behind schedule.”

“Seems like more of a you problem.” Klaus murmured and rolled his eyes when Five flashed a look of irritation. “Fine, I’ll humour you. What’s the first order of business?”

Hopping off his stool, Five showed Klaus a slip of paper with a message printed: _GET KLAUS HARGREEVES TO THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY ATTIC._

And so their mission began. Chimes of bells rang when the Umbrella Academy kids left Griddy’s. Klaus and Five followed behind, however, seeing as Klaus was a grown man emitting the smell of cigarette smoke and candy perfume, it was wiser for him to hide beneath the shadows and fog. Klaus mentioned that it would have been more convenient if they followed the rules of _A Christmas Carol_ , given that Scrooge was invisible throughout his whole time-travelling adventure, and with this suggestion, Five told him to “shut the hell up about _A Christmas Carol_ ” before he shoved a sock into his “flimsy giraffe throat”.

The route they took was all too familiar. Flashes of buried memories resurfaced of the antique store owned by a sweet old lady by the corner. There was a book store beside it that they frequented and the lingering smell of baked goods usually roamed from the bakery across the street. Turning the corner, they’d be greeted with a long street of townhouses. The largest one resided right in the middle and passerby’s would take pictures, being it was the infamous Umbrella Academy.

Approaching the mansion gates, the kids began to walk slower and their once loud chattering was replaced with whispers. Five stopped in his path to tie his shoe. He tugged at Klaus’ long coat dragging him down to his level. Five murmured, “I think you’re going to need to do a better job of hiding yourself. Number One and Two are on to you.”

“Well,” said Klaus. “This wasn’t a problem for Scroo--”

“I swear to God, Klaus, I will murder you.”

Before Klaus could bite back, a shadow cast over him. He looked up seeing Number One and Two with their arms crossed and chests puffed.

“Who are you and why are you following us?” demanded Number One.

“I—”

“He’s a junkie trying to get money out of me,” said Five who had stood up and kicked Klaus’ shin before he could say anything.

“Wait a minute,” Number Four popped his head between One and Two. “You’re the weirdo at the diner!”

“Weirdo?” Klaus repeated.

Number Four nodded, “You look like a Tim Burton character, all scrawny and pale and sad-looking.”

“Okay, asshole, get ready to live this reality in eighteen years.”

Number Four scrunched his nose in both disgust and confusion. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Was that a threat?”

“How could you have possibly translated what I said into a threat? What I said was a fact and I’m the evidence.”

“I think he’s threatening us.” Number One stepped closer as well.

“I’m still not understanding _why_ you’d think that was a threat.”

“Tough mistake threatening us.” Number Three had joined the taunting.

“Jesus-- you too, Allison?!” Klaus was now in an awkward crab position as he tried to back away from the creepy children crowding around him.

“That’s not her name.” Said Number Six. Even Seven was ganging up on him now.

“Okay, I’m feeling really attacked right now, and I am totally not vibing with it.”

“Vibe with this, bitch.” Klaus yelped out a cry and slapped his palms against his cheeks in fear when Number Two whipped out his knife. The kids let out cries as well— battle cries, that is— and pounced forward to attack cartoonishly.

It took a bit too long for Klaus to feel any sort of pain, so he opened his eyes and was greeted with the kids stuck in mid-air. Time had stopped. In front of him: a freeze-frame of wild children, eyes wide with a terrifying sort of lust for blood and hands out and grabby like tiger claws. The only one not participating in the freeze-frame was Five who was massaging his temples.

“Oh, so you can freeze time now?” Klaus grimaced at him.

“It’s the clock that controls the time, not me.” Five replied, showing it off. The hands had stopped in place.

Klaus looked back at the freeze-framed children, analyzing them with his head cocked to the side like they were a historical painting at a museum. He forgot about their funny little habit of finding every petty excuse to beat people up.

“We’re going to have to try this again.” Klaus opened his mouth but Five was quick to answer his question before he could even ask it. “As in I’m going to rewind time so you don’t get your ass beat.”

“Okay,” Said Klaus slowly, and Five began fiddling with the hands of the clock. “but can we just take a moment to consider the benefits of being invisible like Scrooge—”

* * *

Klaus suddenly found himself back on a stool at Griddys. The kids, oblivious to the jump back in time, were making their way out the door and towards the mansion yet again. Five requested Klaus to “try harder this time” and Klaus did “try harder this time” by hiding behind the occasional lamppost or mailbox or at one point, inside a trash can. Despite his dedication, he was caught and backed into a corner by Number One. Time froze before One could throw a jaw-breaking punch.

* * *

Third times the charm: Klaus gave the kids a head start and waited a few minutes until they were out of sight before he headed to the mansion. Once he made it to the gates, Number Seven, observing from the attic window ledge, pointed out the fact that there was a “withered vampire” climbing their fences. Before Two’s knife could plunge through Klaus’ chest, time froze.

* * *

Fourth time, they decided, was definitely the real charm: Klaus got a head start. He left the diner before the kids, made it to the mansion, climbed over the fence and up the fire escape into Five’s room. It would be at the last step his foot would slip and send him back to the ground. The large thump had Pogo peeking out the window. Time stopped before the police arrived.

* * *

So maybe it’s actually the fifth time that is, indeed, the charm.

“No, absolutely not.” Klaus waved his hands around frantically, cutting off Five as he was in the middle of explaining his probably-going-to-fail plan. The kids had already left on their fifth trip to the mansion today. “This is just getting ridiculous. At this point, I’d prefer experiencing the thrill of getting bullied by a bunch of preteens and the looming depression that comes afterwards.”

“Klaus,” Five rolled his eyes. “our mission will not progress unless you successfully make it to the attic of the mansion. You almost had it last time. All you have to do is stay in my room until we arrive.”

“And what happens when you guys arrive and I get caught again?”

Five tapped his finger rapidly against the counter in thought. After a moment, he breathed through his nose and said, “We rewind—”

“Good day to you.” Klaus hopped off his stool and made for the exit door to see if he could get hit by a car again.

His plans for a potential lawsuit was averted with one look at the night sky. There the moon shined full and white and crescent. What was odd was the twenty other full and white and crescent moons surrounding it like they had replaced the stars. There were suns too, shining brightly down on the city. It was not something Klaus would call terrifying, nor concerning, nor particular fascinating. Rather, it felt about right. Klaus had experienced bizarre near-death situations all too often that the feeling one’s supposed to possess in times like these was numbed.

“Ah, shit.” Five had come up behind Klaus, studying the sky above like it were some textbook science equation. Klaus looked at him, prompting him to explain: “The sequence of events of our timeline are overlapping, causing us to witness multiple days play out at once. This happens when I hit my quota of rewinds for the day. No matter, we’ll adjust. I can still make this work.”

“No offence,” said Klaus. “but I find it hard to believe you can ‘ _still make this work_ ’, seeing as you literally broke time. Is it even worth it at this point?”

“Of course, it’s worth it, Klaus. You need to see this. You need to see the attic.”

There was something imitating sincerity in those cold, dead eyes of Five that had Klaus agree to trust him. At the steps of the mansion, he took the time to stare blankly at the front doors: needlessly tall and pretentious. What lay behind was a flood of memories Klaus was unwilling to release. “Is it all that smart to be going through the front doors?” he asked.

“You’ll be fine.” Answered Five, stern tone quieter than usual. Without any contact, the doors opened themselves-- a gust of wind coming through. Much like the moons and suns in the sky, there were multiple versions of the Hargreeves children running around in the mansion. They appeared almost transparent like they were literal ghosts from his past. It seemed these ghosts could not see Klaus or Five, as a few of them walked right through their bodies.

They began in the living room. There was Number Six helping Number Four with math homework. Number Four chewed on his pencil’s eraser, trying to figure out the equation while also stealing glances at the answer sheet AKA Six’s opened notebook. This study arrangement would fade around the time they turned fourteen and their 30 minutes of free time on Saturdays were spent someplace, far from each other’s teen angst.

In the kitchen, Number Two, Four, and Seven were attempting to bake a cake for their mother. It was at the age of seven they realized they never got to celebrate their mother’s birthday, nor did they even know when it was. The result of their baking project was a grey cloud triggering the smoke alarm, uniforms powdered in flour, and a black rock that was supposed to be the chocolate cake. The kids’ thirty minutes were replaced with chores for the rest of the year.

At the top of the grand staircase, a five-year-old Number Four crafted cardboard wings that he tightly duct-taped around his arms. He just found out about Number Two’s new power of being able to stay underwater without having to breathe. Number Two always enjoyed swimming so it was only logical for Number Four to be able to fly since flying had always interested him. He held his arms out, ready to jump the flights of stairs and if by the off chance it turned out he could not actually fly, Number One was at the bottom of the stairs ready to catch him. Before Number Four could chicken out, young Number Five pushed and sent him tumbling down. Four did not participate in training for a month, thanks to his broken arm.

Through their bedroom hallway, the kids were getting ready for a fancy fundraiser event hosted by a nonprofit organization. Number Four and Three were using Seven as a canvas for their dollar store brand makeup. They “borrowed” the palette from the robbery they stopped this morning. Seven seemed happy to be involved in at least something at the time. It would be ten minutes into wearing the cheap makeup, her eyes began to redden and her cheeks itched with uncomfortable rashes.

Finally, Klaus and Five made it to the attic. In the dark and dusty space, glowed the colourful fireworks in the distance. The kids huddled around the window ledge, watching the city celebrate the New Year. They weren’t transparent and ghostly figures like the rest of the mansion. Instead, they appeared normal. Present. _Alive_. Klaus was always fond of this particular memory. All his siblings were together and defying all possibilities, were too focused on the light show to even fight or argue. They allowed the banging of the fireworks to overtake the silent attic and relish in the fact that for once it was not a gunshot making such noises. After the show had ended, they kept each other in a silent company just staring at the night sky. And for a moment, they felt like they were a real family.

Something clicked in Klaus’ brain. His frown deepened as he turned to look at Five beside him. “Hey, by chance, was this your last New Year with us?’

“Oh yeah, I guess it was,” Five said as if just realizing it. The uncomfortable fidgeting of his finger tapping his forearm told Klaus otherwise.

“I don’t think I ever asked,” said Klaus after a beat of silence spent mostly contemplating. “How have you been? After you ran away, we kinda just assumed the worse. Well, except for Vanya. She was always the most hopeful.”

Five almost smiled at that. He answered, “I’ve been as well as someone can be, knowing what the near future has to offer.”

Klaus winced. “Is it really that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Did you ever try coming back to us?”

“Obviously, I’ve tried,” Five replied sharply. “That’s all I’ve been trying to do these past fifty years, Klaus. Look, I know life at the Umbrella Academy was not ideal-- the old man made it hell on earth for us. It also didn't help that, as siblings, we made each other miserable but that was only a small part of our family dynamic... I think we tend to forget that. Sure, some days we hated each other but most days, we were the only ounce of happiness we had here. When I left the academy, I focused on what I was going to gain. I was so adamant about proving dad wrong, proving that I could make it on my own-- and I did just that. But I paid the price of not being prepared for what I was going to lose.”

Five finally looked up from the wood floorboards and the tension on his shoulders eased down. He approached the kids with Klaus matching his pace. Five reached out his hand hesitant towards Number Seven’s arm, but it just went through. Right before their eyes, the kids faded away slowly, leaving only Five and Klaus in the empty attic. Klaus sat on the ledge to get a better view of the sky with too many moons and suns. At least the moon was not isolated as it had always been before.

“Living in almost complete isolation for fifty years,” said Five. “you begin to realize that the bad often overshadowed the good we all had.”

Klaus folded his arms when a cool breeze came through from inside, rather than from the evening winter weather. “It’s kinda hard to forget the bad when the bad played such an enormous part of how we all turned out.”

“I’m not saying to forget it, I'm just suggesting you remember what you did have. You had people who loved you. You had a family.”

Klaus scoffed dryly before his smirk faded. “Do I still have one?”

Five had not the chance to answer, though it did not seem he had one anyway, as the wind blew harder. Klaus held tightly to the creaky ledge, careful not to tip over. His cheeks puffed up with air when realizing how low the ground was. “Is the air conditioner on or something?” he half-joked.

Again, Five did not answer. Instead, he focused his gaze back on his pocket clock. The hands were twirling uncontrollably and the clock shook in his hands. “Time is resetting. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

The strength of the wind pushed at Klaus harder. The house began to rumble, the ceiling pouring down hundred-year-old debris. What Klaus assumed was an earthquake seemed to only affect the mansion, seeing as every other house stood sturdy. And the sky appeared like shattered glass, light seeping through the cracks. Five placed a hand on Klaus’ shoulder and looked deeply into his frantic eyes. “Find the others, Klaus. There is something terrible waiting in the near future.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Good grief! Could you be any more vague? Just an FYI for future excursions of this type: Charles Dickens was never this cryptic—”

Five’s grip on Klaus’ shoulder tightened into something uncomfortable. As if the staircase incident wasn’t enough of a giant middle finger to his face, Five pushed Klaus off the ledge and sent him to the ground. Yes, it was rather tragic for Klaus to experience another betrayal from Five all these years later. Or perhaps it was poetic? The elegant way snowflakes fell with Klaus, and in contrast, the crashing down of the mansion behind him. If everything was in slow motion and _Ava Maria_ was to play in the background, this would make for an impeccable death scene. However, in reality, Klaus falling to his death took about five seconds. He lay on the ground with his arms and legs spread out in an awkward position. Rather than a broken arm, his neck snapped. The snow buried him, as well as the rubble of his childhood home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont think i will be sticking to an upload schedule cause i discovered real quick, that's no fun... so i hope u like random updates! 
> 
> (just a btw, y'all won't have to wait too long, i'm pretty determined to complete this)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this chapter kicked my ass, pissed on my crops, and set my couch on fire
> 
> but ayy its done

Water spurted wildly out of the facet like a broken sprinkler. The bowl was cracking, the nozzle quaked, a thunderous roar came through the pipes. It was no surprise Griddy’s restroom was just the same after seventeen years.

Klaus held tightly to the sides of the sink because for the briefest moment, he felt faint, airy, more lifeless than usual-- if that was even possible. Steadying himself, he looked around the all too familiar washroom. The scenery was growing rather tiresome. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he blurted once noticing the little girl in a floppy sun hat standing by the corner.

“My, how awful.” She said disapprovingly, looking at Klaus’s reflection in the mirror. The reflection told a convoluted story an aggravated junkie, slapping at a fly who had not known the concept of personal space. Standing beside the girl was Carl, the mopey Janitor, who was now back to his deceased form and cleaning the green gunk off the wall. “Must you be so aggressive with your language?” Wondered the girl. “It is quite rude.”

“Oh, my sincere apologies. And who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Klaus had stepped closer and was now bending down to her shorter height.

Head tilted to the side; she looked at him for a moment. Not with contempt, nor with annoyance like Klaus was used to. Not even amusement, or boredom for that matter. She just stared plainly and occasionally blinked until she finally spoke: “Ah, yes. That’s right. You have yet to stay dead long enough for us to meet. To put it simply, I reside in the afterlife. Today, I’ve been tasked to take a visit downstairs and finally get to know you.”

“That doesn't exactly answer my question of who you’re supposed to be.”

She was doing that staring thing again. “I haven't pondered on who I'm _supposed_ to be. I’ve created everything and everyone yet I have not made an identity for myself. But if you are in search of a clearer answer, I guess you could say I'm _supposed_ to be your friend.”

Klaus looked off to the side in thought, then shrugged. “Sure, I'll be your friend.”

“I wasn’t offering.”

“Hey, do you happen to know my brother? He’s about yea high,” Klaus lowered his hands to his shin. “And he goes by the number Five. Hideous name, I know. Before I ended up here, he took me to my past and pushed me off a window sill. I’m wondering if you could wave a wand and summon him somehow so I could slap him across his little bastard baby face?”

“He must have his reasons for causing you such harm.”

“So you do know him?”

“I know everyone, but if you are wondering if I work with him, I’m sorry to disappoint. In actuality, I am against his work of tampering with the timeline.”

“Rather two-faced of you, seeing as you’re here participating in this lovely shitshow.”

“I suppose I see the benefits of this particular assignment.” She said, looking at him up and down with her judgy eyes. “You see, I’m wanting to get into a concert but I cannot purchase a ticket because no one in the living world seems to be able to see or hear me. That is, everyone but you. Would you be so willing to purchase a ticket for me?”

“First of all,” Klaus held a finger up, “where are your manners? We just met and you’re already expecting me to spend money on you. Second, if no one is able to see you, why not just skip the lineup and watch the concert for free?”

“That would go against my morals.” It was Klaus’ turn to stare blankly and after a moment, the little girl asked, “You do know what morals are, right?”

“Yes, I know what morals are.” He rolled his eyes.

“Then will you help me?”

Reluctantly, Klaus agreed. He would have probably been forced into following instructions by some magical force anyway.

“We should hurry along now, time is of the essence.” She said, looking at a very familiar pocket watch that was wrapped around her wrist.

The door swung behind them as they left the washroom. Upbeat music from the jukebox echoed through the dim hallway and in an interesting coincidence, the beat matched the flickering ceiling lights. They were greeted with the melancholy scene of an empty diner. Along with it, Diego in the corner booth, fiddling with a butter knife and judging its blunt ends.

“Ugh,” Klaus stuck is tongue out and scrunched his nose like he smelled something rotten. “I have to relive this awkward interaction?”

“Try and make it short. I’d like to get a good seat at the concert.” The little girl requested of him.

Klaus mimed shooting himself with a finger gun to his temple before stomping his way to his brother. He slouched on his seat, eyes and forehead was about all that could be seen of him, and Diego grunted, "Can you act like an adult for once and sit up? We're in public."

"That doesn't stop you from dressing like you're going to Comicon," murmured Klaus in response. He expected to be smacked upside the head but instead, Diego squinted at him with a familiar skepticism.

“When’d you get out?” he asked.

“Get out of what?”

“The hell do you think?”

Another pause. “OH! Rehab!” Klaus snapped his fingers once dusting off the memory from this particular night. “Two days ago.”

“Why didn't you call?”

“Forgot your number.”

“You know where I live.”

“So?

“You could’ve come over.”

Klaus groaned and dragged his hands across his face in annoyance. _No one wants that_ , he wanted to say. Rather, he sat up, leaned forward, and stared deeper into Diego’s dark eyes. “Honestly, does any of this seem familiar to you?”

“Me finding you in an alleyway after months of not knowing where the hell you ran off to? Yeah, Klaus, it is kinda familiar.” It was a fair answer and It was Klaus’ fault for not having seen it coming.

Their conversation went on as was scripted, or close enough to it. Klaus didn’t finish his meal this time around. Continuity was lacking: the bacon was drier than before. The little girl packed it up in a container, unimpressed by his wasting of food. The ride to the subway was not without Diego offering his place to stay. Again, Klaus declined.

* * *

“So what’s your whole bit?” Klaus asked the little girl. They were headed down the stairs into the subway station, sounds of an enthusiastic trumpet player echoing through the undergrounds.

“I’m not sure I follow,” admitted the girl.

“How are you gonna like, y’know, teach me about life and things?” Clarified Klaus. “Your on-the-nose metaphors about how I’m being ungrateful and should be a better brother or person in general.”

“Seems you’re already aware of your faults. It’s just a matter of doing something about it.” They passed the fair gates, the little girl insisting he pay double. He did so with an eye-roll. The direction of where the concert took place was the opposite from where Klaus had travelled initially, however, Ben’s irritation towards Klaus remained unchanged.

Indulging in an argument with Ben about living life to the fullest or whatever bullshit was somehow less appealing than it already was the first time around. It was also Klaus’ heavy eyelids preventing his attention span to last longer than three seconds. As the rumbling tracks beneath led the train out of its dark tunnels and introduced the quiet night, Klaus' snoring accompanied Ben like it were background music. Stars were hidden by the yellow city lights, making the full moon appear isolated in the dark and eerie skies.

After a moment of staring at the sky, the little girl sitting beside Klaus wondered, “Why did you decline your brother’s offer to stay at his place?” He responded with a lazy hum. She went on, “It would have been understanding for you to accept your brother’s invitation to stay at his place given your homeless status, yet you denied it without having to be forced to make that choice."

“Seems like a matter of personal perspective, don’t you think?” Klaus murmured, barely audible.

“Hm, I suppose. Care to share yours?” She cocked her head to the side and when Klaus did not respond right away, she added, “Why not spend New Year's Eve with your family?”

“I suppose,” Klaus began slowly. “I just don’t want to be cooped up in a creepy basement when there are other more exciting places to be. I’m sure I’m doing him a favour as well, being out of his hair and all.”

“Have you ever considered that he wants-- or rather, needs you to stay with him?” She asked.

“Quite the adorable little comedian you are,” he cooed, “He has made a perfectly stable life for himself away from the academy-- all my siblings have. They’re happier without me, why would any of them need me these days? I, myself, don’t even need me these days.”

“Do you really think that way, Klaus?” said a voice that carried sympathy, unlike the little girl and volume, unlike Ben. It was a familiar voice; the owner’s name just on the tip of Klaus’ tongue but too stubborn to commit to say for certain. He’d search his brain for a name, eyes furrowed in concentration but still, nothing came to mind. The only way to know who it was was for him to open his eyes and look around.

His eyes would meet with the newspaper that Ben was reading. On the front page; a candid photo of the famous Allison Hargreeves trying her best to block her face from the pesky paparazzi as she completed the mundane task of walking across the street. Her sad eyes moved to meet Klaus’. _Ah_ , there it was right on cue; the on-the-nose metaphors.

“Do you really think I'm happier without you?” Allison asked, sounding so genuine; it was no wonder she became an actress.

“I would hope so.” joked Klaus, but when Allison’s frown deepened he hurriedly added on, “I mean, you have a real family now, don’t you?”

She looked up at the headline written above her head in bold print: _ALLISON HARGREEVES LOSES CUSTODY BATTLE: Living life with two broken families._

“That’s been taken away from me,” she said shamefully. “And Klaus, I’ve always had a real family, and I miss you guys every day despite our differences.” She smirked, thinking of the memories. “Keep your head up, Klaus,” she said before freezing back into a photograph.

Klaus bowed his head and looked at his worn-out sneakers. There was a parade of cockroaches travelling towards a littered coffee cup on the ground. The cockroaches huddled in their potential new home but once they noticed the lack of substantial food, they marched out in search of their next feast. Only three out of the six escaped before the cup miraculously began floating upwards like a balloon. Klaus’ eyes followed the floating cup until his head was no longer bowed down. It was then he noticed everyone but he and his new friend had disappeared from their seats. Seen outside the train was an enormous galaxy and its scattered stars. It seemed they had landed on the moon.

Head tilted to the side, wide eyes staring out the window in awe, Klaus wondered out loud, “How the hell did we get here?”

“Oh,” Said the girl, floppy hat replaced with a space helmet. She tossed Klaus a helmet to wear as well but once put on he learned it was only for the aesthetic. She went on and explained, “It seems you missed the entire adventure, it was quite spectacular. We passed the most beautiful scenery ever imagined.” (Narcissistic much? Take her word with a grain of salt; she’s just biased towards her own creation).

Right outside the nearest window to Klaus was a spaceman sitting by his lonesome on a beach chair. He faced the direction of the earth as it rotated ever so slowly. “Huh,” he said in a soft surprise. “You’re the last person I'd think would visit me, Number Four.”

Klaus blinked rapidly. Only a handful of people referred to Klaus by his number. “Luther?”

He didn’t turn to greet Klaus but the slight tense of Luther’s broad shoulders indicated he could hear him. The brother’s stared off into the distance for a while, taking in the sight. Not too far from where they were, a comfy trailer resided. “I didn’t know you were renting a place on the moon.” Teased Klaus lightheartedly. “As if the mansion wasn’t spacious enough-- pardon the pun.”

“It’s quiet here.” Stated Luther, still unwilling to speak face to face with Klaus. "It is a breathtaking view but…” There was a pause, perhaps too long of a pause for it not to be deemed awkward. To say something during the awkward pause would only make things more awkward.

“Quiet.” Luther finally said. “It’s quiet.” He repeated.

They sat in the quiet and it was only after a few moments Klaus understood his brother’s lacklustre response. The moon was quiet and there was no background music of a snoring sibling to keep him company.

The train teetered ever so slightly when Klaus reached his hand to comfort Luther, but his palm planted against the window instead. Klaus had not the time to even think about holding onto anything stable as the train nosedived back into earth, and he was screaming. It was like a rollercoaster with no buildup. Just an everlasting drop that had not done Klaus’ already popped ears any favours. The train screeched wildly once making back into the city and onto the subway tracks. And just like that, the subway service was back on schedule. If you listened closely, you could hear the grumpy citizens who had just finished their 9 to 5 rejoice in the distance.

A robotic voice echoed throughout the train, announcing they were soon to arrive at the next stop. The automatic doors opened and tired passengers walked over Klaus, who had ended on the littered floor, staring up at the ceiling, seeing double of the little girl. She hovered over him with an unimpressed raised eyebrow.

“I advise you to stay awake,” she instructed, her helmet now replaced by her floppy hat. “Or else we will be late for the concert. If you’re feeling unwell, I remember I’ve parked my vehicle nearby, so we could just use that instead.”

The two stepped off the Polar Express rip-off, only to find themselves in the presence of another Hargreeves. It seemed there was a new stop added to the subway that led right into Diego’s underground living quarters-- which, y’know, was awkward for everyone-- but judging by the undisturbed Diego in his underwear, sitting on his bed, eating a bowl of instant noodles, he must have gotten used to it. He decorated the place a bit; A skeleton of a Christmas tree sat lopsided on his kitchen counter. A stocking that he wouldn't admit to knitting himself hung by the door. His radio played a buffered version of jingle bells. And that was about all the spirit he was willing to display.

Klaus winced when an ornament slipped off its branch and shattered on the ground. “Good Heavens,” murmured Klaus, unable but desperately wanting to look away from the uncomfortable sight of his brother; tired and unmotivated. “Has mother taught you nothing of interior design? This is just depressing!”

“You’re depressing!” Diego retorted lamely, spoon spinning around his bowl a bit too aggressively. “You’re wearing a fishbowl over your head!”

Klaus glared at him with squinted eyes, taking off his space helmet and tossing it on the ground. “I thought you were going out with your ‘lady friend’?”

“Yeah, but I’m being forced into bed rest,” claimed Diego.

“No, he’s not,” corrected the girl.

“I caught a cold or somethin’,” claimed Diego.

“No, he didn’t,” corrected the girl, again. Turns out, as explained by the girl, Diego and Eudora ended their relationship a few months ago, maybe even a little longer than that. It was not what you would consider a mutual breakup but they remained friends nonetheless. They planned on celebrating New Years with a few friends, but Diego cancelled when Eudora mentioned through a phone call that she was going to bring a special friend with her.

Klaus, pouting for his brother, dared to step closer and whispered, “Oh, Diego, buddy…” but was stopped by the girl who tugged at his long coat.

“No time for a pity party, we have a concert to get to.” With an unexpected strength, she dragged him out the door.

* * *

The ‘vehicle” the little girl spoke of was a bicycle chained to a lamppost in the parking lot of a gas station. Klaus sat in the basket attached at the front and his legs dangled off the sides as his new friend took them to their planned destination. Do not be fooled by her tiny stature; her pure determination to get a good seat for the concert had pushed her to pedal up a mountain of a street, despite the aggressive winter weather creating a snowbank on her floppy hat. Even when the wheels could not grip the icy roads and sent them back downhill, she continued to pull closer to their pinpointed destination. They’d make it up the hill and she continued zig-zagging around honking cars. What was thought to be road rage might have been more of awe. Stuck in traffic, drivers witnessed a grown man sitting in a basket, weaving around cars without a foot on the pedal to control it.

It was hard for Klaus to enjoy the scenery for most of the ride. Looking up at the isolated moon invoked a new feeling of sorrow. The newspapers flying in the wind sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. The Christmas trees covered in sparkling tinsel displayed on storefronts mocked his brother's sad-- so _very_ sad-- excuse of a plant. Klaus, sweating at his palms, reached into his pocket and searched for a cigarette or a pill or anything to push him out of reality-- or whatever the hell this was. But again: nothing but lint.

The bicycle stopped at a traffic light. Klaus’ eyes followed a familiar figure not too far in the distance, walking along the sidewalk with their hood up and hands stuffed in their leather jacket. The figure disappeared, then reappeared further down the sidewalk seconds later. The traffic lights turned green and the little girl made a turn opposite of where the figure was heading. The bike ride headed into an alleyway and a mysterious red light was flashing at the end.

“Hey, wait!” Klaus whipped his head as far back to face his driver. “I think I spotted my brother just now. Could we maybe follow him?”

“But what about the concert? We’ll be late,” warned the girl. "And plus, I heard you like flashy lights and such. This is the ideal path for you, wouldn't you say?" 

“Right, but,” He began fidgeting with his bracelets, eyes scattering all over the place. “I think this is more important.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“It’s just-- I don’t know, I just feel like I'll feel better if I see that he’s ok.”

Before they could get any closer to the red light, she stopped the bike with a foot to the pavement. She looked at him with her judgy eyes. Klaus leaned back, afraid they might shoot lasers. A brief silence washed over them until finally, she said, “I think you’re odd.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “ _Danke_.”

Ignoring his comment, she went on, “You’ve dismissed your brother before, yet now you’re wanting so desperately to seeing him. Why is that?”

Klaus weakly shrugged and looked off to the side. His sudden urge to keep his brother company was making his stomach churn uncomfortably. _Christ_ , he really needed a fix before this feeling of caring before it engulfed him like wildfire.

The girl wordlessly followed his request and followed the path Ben travelled. The role of pedalling and basket-sitting had switched when Klaus’ uncontrollable jittering showed no signs of relaxing if not for a distraction. The result of it was an unamused little girl watching Klaus’s wobbly legs struggle to keep up his mopey brother. She hopped off the bicycle before Klaus gave up and fell on the ground. He stayed there for a while, heart pounding out of his chest.

Luckily, It was the right place to stop. Ben had just entered the theatre next to where Klaus fell. And, in a too-suspicious-to-be-a-coincidence, It was also where the concert was taking place. The ticket booth held a sleepy lady who rested her chin upon her palm. Klaus, knocking on the glass between them caused her to quickly sit up and nearly choke on the salvia that ran down her cheek. Fifteen dollars, she told Klaus, was the price for one ticket. Solemnly, he said goodbye to his cash and it was then he realized paying double would be out of his range. He looked down at the little girl who kept a neutral expression as he hesitantly handed her the ticket. "Here," he said with a wistful sigh. "enjoy the concert."

"Isn't it more logical for you to use the ticket?" She challenged and focused her attention on Klaus rather than the ticket she so desperately wanted. "It is your money you paid with, after all."

"Well, unfortunately, there's a no refund policy." He pointed at the large sign above the ticket booths. "And I think you'll fancy the performance more than me. Just do me a favour and see if my dear brother is doing okay."

She looked up in thought then spun on her heels. "I suppose, I can make an exception just this once. Keep the ticket and we will go inside without anyone knowing I'm present." 

Blinking his wide eyes in a delighted surprise (his influence on the youth was stronger than he thought), he followed her as she approached the elegant sounds of string instruments. The crowd was about as small as he expected but their age-range did not limit itself to ninety-year-old grandpas; Ben was there, after all.

Ben had found a comfortable spot next to a grandfather and his two granddaughters, despite the rows upon rows of empty seats he could have selected (though he may deny it if brought up, It was to give him the illusion he was not alone on New Year’s Eve).

Not considerate of the performers, the two children pursed their lips as they mimicked the sound of a plane crashing into a choo-choo train. The shy grandfather, not considerate of his two granddaughter’s disturbance, focused on the performance with a hand close to his chest. He fiddled with his necklace nervously, glassy eyes staring at the young and confident boy in the percussion section. Ben’s gaze searched for his own family in the violin section. Vanya was sitting in the very back, eyes focused anywhere but the audience. Though not holding her chin up as high as the confident boy in the percussion section, Ben’s proud smirk remained for his sister on stage. It had been such a long while since Klaus had seen his sister, despite them living in the same city. She radiated a bright glow none of the members of the Umbrella Academy could quite replicate-- perhaps it was from missing out from the physical trauma endured during missions. Vanya was at least in the spotlight now while her brothers stayed hidden within the shadows of the audience. 

Klaus remained at the back of the theatre for the better. Doubtful he was that Ben would be impressed with Klaus' current statues: chewing at his nails and scratching at the back of his sweaty neck, like a dog with fleas. At least he knew he was fine.

It seemed the little girl had yet to learn about withdrawal in her grade seven health ed class, as she spoke to without acknowledging Klaus’ fidgety manners “Klaus,” she began. “I’d like to thank you for accompanying me on this journey. I know it was tiresome and you would rather have spent your time and money on something to fuel your addiction, but you chose not to and I applaud you for that. You are better at helping others than you give yourself credit.”

Klaus glanced at her, unsure whether to thank her or disagree. She’d probably know which one was a lie, anyway. He did not have the chance to choose as the little girl went on to admit, “I was unsure of calling you my friend-- and I still am-- but I am comfortable enough to consider you an acquaintance.”

He scoffed, a toothy grin emerging. “Oh, how sweet of you. Are you thinking of paying me back or…”

“I have already given you a gift,” said the little girl. “It’s your responsibility to use it wisely.”

"Use what--"

The ticking of a clock suddenly introduced itself as the little girl took out her pocket watch. It swung by its chain, left to right, left to right. “You’re time with me is up. You’re needed someplace else now.”

“Someplace else?” Klaus squinted at her and she nodded. Cautiously, he scooted away and left an empty seat between them. “What tricks do you have up your little sleeve, huh? ‘Cause the last time ‘time was up’, I was rudely pushed off a window sill, and that shit hurt.”

“I would never try to intentionally harm you, Klaus. In fact, I’ve been trying to do the opposite.”

“Okay, then where would this ‘someplace’ be?”

She answered with her hand raised and a finger pointed towards where Ben sat at the front. 

“Aha, best not.” His knees hid under his chin when his stomach began to churn again. “I’m not feeling too good and I'm afraid I'm going to throw up all my insides, which I’m pretty sure is just inky black goo these days.”

“You didn’t finish your food back at the diner, maybe you’re just hungry?” The leftovers she packed from the diner were handed over to Klaus. Once the salty grease of bacon touched his tongue, he stuffed most of what was left into his cheeks like a squirrel preparing for hibernation. The little girl questioned in disgust, “Is this how you normally eat?” to which Klaus hissed and said, “mind your own beesw--” and the little girl responded with a “Pardon?” and Klaus urgently pointed at his throat, eyes widened and teary-eyed. Still, unknowing to what he was trying to communicate, the two participated in a short game of charades. Klaus’ pale-skinned turned blue when they finally established it was a verb. He fell to the ground once they deemed the game too difficult and changed to hang-man. The girl quickly checked his pulse but a beat was nonexistent.

“Ah, fuck.” She huffed out a breath and looked up to the ceiling. “Pardon my language, but I do wonder what he was trying to say?”

Silence, with only the elegant sound of the concert was all she received as an answer. With her head shaking in disappointment, she spent her time performing the Heimlich maneuver on her acquaintance. 

….Oh, wait. Were you speaking to me?

“Yes, you.” She confirmed with a nod to her head and arms crossed against her chest. “I’ve been hearing you blabber on the whole night! You might as well answer my question if you’re wanting to talk so badly.”

His words must have clogged his throat, like the food he failed to chew. It was nothing important, anyway.

“Will you take care of him wherever he lands next?” She requested of me. “He’s a fragile one.”

I’m afraid I do not have that power. I know only the narrative of his life but I cannot manipulate it, no matter how frustrating it may be to witness.

“Well,” she looked back down, Klaus’ body now nowhere to be found. “I wish them luck-- whoever’s responsible for him next, that is.”

I will send your regards but she has handled worse, I know that for certain. It’s all about strategy with her; every little detail must go according to what is scripted. Luck is a mere illusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An alternate title for this story is: “Sassy Timelord Preteens teach Klaus how to Stay Woke (both literally and figuratively) in the Most Extra Way Possible” 
> 
> I had like 8 canon lines of dialogue to grasp God’s character so when season 2 comes out and she ends up being radically different from how I've written here then oops be like that


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: (implied) suicide, suicidal thoughts but nothing graphic... also, mentions of drug use (heroin)

Water spurted wildly out of the facet like a broken sprinkler. The bowl was cracking, the nozzle quaked, a thunderous roar came through the pipes. It was no surprise Griddy’s restroom was just the same after eighteen years.

A look at the wall mirror told a story yet to be written. No, it was not a tale of a gothic circus performer or an insomniac or an aggravated junkie. What reflected back was a wall covered in mysterious green gunk. A hopeful thought it was to imagine Carl, the janitor, had finally given up and found purpose someplace else, though optimism wasn't Klaus’ strong suit and he’d conclude Carl somehow died a second time.

Abruptly, the door fell flat. It was, perhaps, the howling wind that pushed it with such a force causing it to unhinge from its bolts. But what was especially odd was what lay ahead. Instead of the hallway with flickering lights, was a pile of rubble that was once the Griddy’s establishment. Black smoke from an unknown source danced to the jukebox music, the sound now muffled and distorted. The lunch counter still stood-- or, at least half of it-- and what lay on it was a bulky booklet too big for Klaus’ skinny arms to carry. The cover page had three sentences aligned in the centre. In the basic font of Courtier New, it read:

**_NUMBER FOUR “KLAUS” HARGREEVES (1989 - 2019)_ **   
_Screenplay by: The Commission_   
_Based on the life created by God_

The wind pushed the pages for him, revealing a scripted version of his very conception. In between were the small moments, including the time he nearly drowned during a mission in Niagara Falls and his first time stabbing himself with a heroin needle. On page 15,330,000 was dialogue between himself and Diego in the dinner. On page 15,516,000 was his inevitable death. From there on out, the pages were blank… until page 15,900,000.

**_INT. GRIDDY’S DOUGHNUT — NIGHT._ **   
_We hear distorted music playing from the jukebox_

_“Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”_

_KLAUS looks around, seeing the Griddy’s he once knew was gone and destroyed by something unknown. The only thing left standing was the counter with no brother or waitress to greet him. He sees a bulky booklet…_

Reading further, it directed him to go to the Hargreeves mansion.

* * *

Klaus’ muscle memory directed him through the winter storm. The unfavourable winds pushed flurries of white blurs towards him and with every step forward, his knees reached the surface of the freezing snow that laid an icy blanket on the erased city. Even if he had been able to see the antique store owned by a sweet old lady by the corner, or the book store beside, or the bakery across the street, he would be disappointed by the devastating sight of debris. Every direction was a blank canvas of an empty civilization meant to be restored by someone smarter and braver. Had Klaus not damaged his body and brain with the pills he swallowed faster than water, maybe he’d be the man to achieve such a task.

A lump hidden beneath the snow had Klaus fall face first. His cheek planted against a wooden plank, perhaps an entrance door once upon a time. It took five attempts for his wobbly legs to do their job and stand him back up. He stood looking at the plank for a while, then crouched back down once deeming it necessary for a closer inspection. What tipped him off as odd was the frosted boot peaking underneath. Flipping the door over, Klaus wished his routine had been the same; to have been greeted by Diego in the corner booth, fiddling with a butter knife and judging its blunt ends. Instead, he was greeted by his brother’s frozen body. New scars were left untreated. Dried splatters of blood turned brown over time.

“Ah, you’ve finally made it to your mark!” A voice exclaimed from the distance. A figure hidden through the falling snow was made known as it approached Klaus. The pitter-patter of footsteps came along with it then revealing a pompous lady all in black winter attire, standing atop a sled that was pulled by a few husky dogs. She parked just a few distances away from Klaus. Taking off her heavy goggles then smirking once catching Klaus’ eye, she went on to say, “Knowing your track record I was getting worried you may have gotten your tongue stuck to a pole. I hope the travel wasn't too bad?”

He’s had worse but that wasn’t important right now. His brother was in the middle of nowhere and Klaus was the only one to keep him company. “H-How did this happen?” His teeth chattered as he spoke. “Why is he…” His hand reached out hesitantly towards Diego’s face, his thumb grazing over the frost under his eye. “Why is he just lying here?”

“Probably because he’s dead.” Her words were blunt and unforgiving. “All of the Umbrella Academy is. If you’re wanting to find them all you’re going to have to do some digging. Don’t take too long; time is of the essence!” Klaus was already up and searching before he could hear the entirety of her sentence.

He found a bump in the snow and began digging. What was uncovered was a frowning Allison. Klaus gently brushed his fingers through her curly hair that no longer bounced in the wind but rather stuck in place like a statue. He dragged her out of the snow and removed the smudged and crusty makeup smeared on her face, knowing full well she would have freaked if she saw herself in the mirror. Quickly, he ran off and searched for his next sibling who hid nearby under a pile of bricks. He would find Luther, holding the same sad frown. Klaus grunted as he dragged him closer to Allison and Diego. Klaus spent the next thirty minutes uncovering Pogo and the metal parts of his mother. The rest of his family was nowhere to be found.

Klaus kept on his knees, staring at his deceased siblings and hoping at least of their fingers would twitch, or a breath of fog to greet the air. He watched and waited but of course, nothing would happen. A gloved hand rested on his shoulder but he did not bother to turn. “Why did this happen?” he asked in a near whisper.

“That’s a complex question with too many answers,” admitted the lady in all black.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” He muttered weakly. “I don’t like seeing them like this.”

A red lipstick smirk emerged. “You’re in luck. You don’t have to see them like this If you follow the script that was given to you.”

“Script?” Klaus wrinkled his forehead. Under the seat of her sled was a copy of the bulky script found at Griddy’s.

“We don’t usually do this but, you’re a special case, Klaus Hargreeves.” She dropped it in front of him, the pages flipping by themselves just as it did at the diner. “This booklet is an ideal version of your life. It was carefully crafted by our trusted employees back at headquarters,” she told him, as she steadily walked over to stand in front of Klaus, as if afraid he had gotten distracted and stopped listening. “There’s just a slight problem; you’re not the best at keeping on the script-- which, fine. It’s to be expected when free-will exists, but you’re not the greatest at using that either. So I'm offering you a once and a lifetime opportunity; If you follow our script word-by-word, you will no longer have to worry about the responsibility of free will-- for the better of humanity, and yourself.”

He took his eyes off the intimidating sight of the script and glared at her, eyes squinted. “You want me to give up control over my life?”

“To live a better one, of course.” She nodded and Klaus was ready to reject her offer, but she’d quickly cut him off, “I know it’s intimidating but there are a multitude of benefits if you choose to go by our script. For starters, we’ve written you to avoid that fateful night you died on New Year's eve and instead, die with the rest of the Umbrella Academy on the 1st of April 2019.”

His hands waved frantically in all sorts of directions in hopes of conveying how much he disagreed with her plan. “How is that any better?!”

“Because you won’t die alone.” She answered swiftly. “You’ll have an extra full three months to live which, from looking at the script, is very worth living. Unless you enjoyed getting hit by a car by some rando truck?”

He shook his head and said, “I don’t want to die in general.”

The lady in all black laughed-- no, cackled, at that. “Are you so sure of yourself? Because headquarters has worked overtime a plethora of stressful nights to keep you alive-- Susan would not shut up about it.” She breathed out a heavy sigh before holding her fists to her hips. “It’s mind-boggling how many times we had to revive you because you would not stop killing yourself both unintentionally and intentionally. You’re like a headless chicken on crack, running around without a certain direction. Tell me, Klaus Hargreeves, because I’m curious; why do you insist on using your free-will to chase death at every corner?”

“I--” Klaus pulled at his shirt collar suddenly feeling an uncomfortable lump in his throat. ‘I don’t’ he was about to say but that was untrue. ‘I don’t know’ he wanted to say but he did know why. “I don’t matter,” he confessed out loud and even as the howling wind grew louder and louder, it felt as if Klaus was living in silence for a lifetime.

Nothing was comforting in the way the lady in all black smoothed the snow off Klaus’ shoulder but he’d allow her unpleasant touch nonetheless. He mumbled a question, “Why is it so important I stay alive, anyway?”

She crouched down in her heeled boots to get a better view of Klaus’ tired, doe eyes. With a finger under his chin, she lifted his head up and smiled with no sympathy, but rather amusement. “It’s just is,” she answered. “Until April 1st, then you can finally rest. I don’t blame you for your misguided choices, Klaus Hargreeves. God’s gift of free will is a difficult thing to control. Take the script and you’ll be sent back to where you started. The choices from there on out will be made for you.”

His forehead wrinkled in deep thought. “And what if I don’t follow the script?”

“Then risk making the same mistakes. We just won't be there to pick you back up. I know you’re hesitant to believe but trust me when I say: your life is more important to other people than you realize. Especially to the timeline.”

Her condescending tone, taunting wide smirk, eyes sharp and filled with unachievable confidence could not overshadow the fact that there was something in her words that ignited a heated spark within Klaus’ chest. A much-needed warmth for his numbing body, hue turning from pale to blue. There were not many instances in Klaus’ life where he felt the seemingly irretrievable state of hope; hope for a better life, hope for a wish to come true, hope for the stars to align his way. Hope was all just a naive child’s dream and reality was their greatest enemy. But now, as Klaus stared at his sleeping siblings and considered the lady’s offer, the childlike hope had introduced itself once again. What welcomed it back was an opportunity for a fresh new start. “Yeah,” he spoke after a silent moment of deep contemplation. “I think I do realize that now.”

The lady in all black whirled her finger away from his chin and offered her hand out. “Do we have a deal?”

Klaus could imagine Ben hovering over his shoulder and shouting in his ear for him to stop being an idiot and trusting every stranger that offered him a deal. He’d tell Klaus there are more options to his dilemma, that there is a path for him he had yet to explore or some inspirational bullshit he grabbed from a google search. And just like all those other times stuck with his ghost brother, Klaus would ignore him and accept the handshake of the stranger. What was new was his eyes now bright and wide. “Deal.”

With a single word spoken, the winter storm pellets rained down harder as if Mother Nature was crying for Klaus. The hand he held had disappeared, only to leave her cashmere glove as memorabilia. Snow captured him under its blanket before he could make a quick escape to somewhere warmer. Submerged by this icy cocoon, the familiar symptoms of nausea kicked in, then came in the dry tongue and spinning head. What could be mistaken as an excruciating moment of withdrawal was in actuality, the unforgiving winter taking Klaus’ life, hopefully for the last time tonight.

At least he was buried beside his siblings. At least he was there for them.

And just like that, the story resets.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote two endings and you get to choose which one to read!
> 
> I deem Chapter (5) the hopeful ending
> 
> Chapter (6) is the goddamnit-are-you-kidding-me ending.
> 
> The chapters are identical to each other but things change at the very end indicated by the little (🔥) symbol.
> 
> Choose wisely! :)

Let's do this one last time, shall we?

Water spurted wildly out of the facet like a broken sprinkler. The bowl was cracking, the nozzle quaked, a thunderous roar came through the pipes. It was no surprise Griddy’s restroom was just the same after seventeen years. Klaus cupped the pouring water into his hands and splashed it against his face, feeling the odd thrill of being awake but then the stress-relieving realization that, _oh, thank God!_ He’s _actually awake_! A look at the wall mirror told a prewritten story of a gothic circus performer; black mascara tears running down his pale and bony cheeks, hair puffed up and untamed.

The buzzing fly running circles under his nose had landed on the bulky script placed on the floor. It was opened on page 15,330,000 and was ready to be followed by an actor. He slid his hands underneath the booklet, cradled it in his arms, and closely inspected the pages.

It was an overwhelming amount of dialogue. Panicked, he slammed it closed.

Memorization; it wasn’t Klaus’ strong suit.

From where I sit, I see a frazzled Klaus stomp the script into the toilet. He rapidly pulled on the lever as if it were a slot machine overflowing not with golden coins, but with water. “Fuck your script!” he’d yell and flip off the ceiling then the floors because he knew the lady in all black was watching but wasn’t actually sure where she resided. Her offer was enticing, Klaus will give her that; predetermined decisions would ensure a safe life to live, and a worthy death surrounded by his family. But what it did not ensure was a worthy life spent _alive_ with them.

There was one thing he and the lady in all black both agreed on; Klaus’ life is more important to other people than he realized.

Free will couldn't be that difficult to control, right? All he had to do was consider his choices carefully, keep a hunky-dory outlook on life, and care a bit more about his life and the people in it.

Carl stared in horror at the flooding floors he now had to clean too.

“Ah shit.” Klaus lamely spread toilet paper onto the floor, resulting in more of a mess than they began with. Making careful choices; it was easier said than done and surviving the night one last time would be no different. At least Carl had something more to do. 

He didn't seem to appreciate his updated chores list as he chased Klaus out of the washroom with a broom. Upbeat music from the jukebox echoed through the dim hallway and in an interesting coincidence, the beat matched the flickering ceiling lights. Klaus sighed happily when greeted with the melancholy scene of an empty diner not destroyed by something unknown. He beelined for the very-alive-Diego, fiddling with a butter knife and judging its blunt ends.

Trapped in Klaus’ sudden embrace, Diego awkwardly responded by patting his back and muttering, “What the hell is this? What are you doing?’

“Hugging.” Klaus swooned, tightening his grip. “I’m hugging you.”

“Are you h--”

“I’m not high.”

“When did you--”

“I got out of rehab two days ago,” he quickly answered. “I didn’t tell you because I forgot your phone number. I didn’t visit your place because I thought you were boning your girlfriend.” Diego choked on air at that last part, and Klaus was nice enough to ignore it. He instead asked, “Your little hut isn’t occupied is it? I’d love to stay awhile.”

Diego with a small twitch at the corner of his lips took a closer look into Klaus’ eyes; there was something different. They were still wide and surrounded by darkened circles, but a flame that had blown out long ago reignited itself. It was smaller than it was all those years back but with a little more time and a little more fuel, it will evolve into so much more. Yes, maybe it was this hypothetical tiny flame in Klaus’ eye that had Diego almost genuinely smile.

There was a _yelp_ followed by a _thud_ that ruined the endearing brotherly moment. Down the hallway towards the washroom was a fallen customer who had slipped on the wet floors. Klaus dragged Diego as he bolted out of Griddy’s without dinner to occupy their growling stomachs, but luckily they’d find a hot dog stand to accommodate their hunger during their stroll along the sidewalks.

A tinsel tree on display dressed in shimmering green lights had attracted Klaus to enter a humble little memorabilia store. The joyful tune of Jingle Bells danced throughout the store as Klaus admired the bundle of mini trees ready to be bought and sold. Diego reluctantly followed him inside minutes after receiving a phone call, and he stayed quiet for most of Klaus’ shopping spree. Too pouty was he to confess his barely beating broken heart caused by one Eudora Patch.

Their walk back to Diego’s car was an awkward one; Klaus hesitated a total of five times to bring up his brother’s obvious moping. During the drive, he hesitated three times more before just giving up entirely and allowing the silence to take over the rest of the ride. In defence to Klaus; the Hargreeves, in general, were never the greatest at giving nor receiving emotional support. That was yet another lesson Sir Reginald neglected to teach his children.

Still, Klaus kept smiling.

* * *

Klaus welcomed himself into Diego’s humble abode by aggressively slapping the tree skeleton thing off his kitchen counter, as if it personally insulted him and their mother, and replaced it with the new and pretty one bought with Diego’s money at the store. Instead of yelling at Klaus for making a mess, Diego went straight to bed and dozed off. Klaus settled on his armchair, a feather pen in his hand danced along the postal cards he had also purchased. One was for Allison (her address was leaked online), another was for Vanya (he’d bump into her eventually), another for Luther (it was the thought that counted), and another for Five (he was still out there somewhere).

“Wow, bro--” The sudden voice by Klaus’ ear had him jolt out of his seat as if he had just been tased. He should have been used to Ben’s disappearing and reappearing act--and he was--but it never stopped his panicking heart barging out of his ribcage.

“I’m really impressed that you’re doing something this thoughtful,” continued Ben, ignoring his brother’s distress. Closing the newspaper in hand, Ben looked over Klaus’ shoulder, admiring the calligraphy he designed. “I’d think this would be too boring of a New Year for you.”

“Oh, whatever do you mean? Embracing the Hallmark holiday spirit is my specialty!”

Ben rolled his eyes at his brother’s sarcasm but a smirk remained. “Diego should learn a thing or two.” He glanced over to the napping Number Two, chest rising and falling. “What’s wrong with him, anyway?”

“He’s mourning over the one that got away.” Klaus pouted his lower lip in pity. “Say, Ben, do you happen to know a remedy for a broken heart?”

“Chamomile tea,” he suggested, sounding way too sure of himself. “And a good pep talk, probably.”

The mention of talking had Klaus’ shoulders tense and made something poke needles from the inside of his stomach. It demanded attention but Klaus shook his head and pinched his eyes closed before he could give in. “Yeah, maybe.” He mumbled in response to Ben’s suggestion. He opened his eyes back and it landed Ben’s newspaper. Snatching it out of his possession, a bright smile emerged when flipping to the right page. “Or maybe,” he showcased the newspaper to Ben, “We could take a little trip.”

* * *

Diego, a jean jacket over his sleepwear which comprised of a sleeveless shirt and boxing shorts, had his head bowed, his shoulders deflated, and a rain cloud followed him wherever he dragged his feet like he was in an episode of _Charlie Brown_. Klaus, on the other spectrum of confusing and uncontrollable emotions, skipped towards their destination as if there were springs attached to the soles of his worn-out sneakers. Waving at strangers and greeting them a happy new year wasn’t as joyous as he imagined, seeing as most of them either sneered or yelled disgruntled threats back. No matter, Klaus kept smiling. He had to keep smiling. He had to keep happy. Even if he was faking it, he just had to get through this night.

It was when they were approaching a crosswalk, the spring beneath his soles unhinged and he was suddenly walking slower. He let out laboured breaths… was he always this tired? His aching toothy smirk dissolved when the churning of his stomach welcomed itself back with a mighty vengeance. Tightly he wrapped his fingers around his wrist in an attempt to stop his sudden jittering.

“Klaus?” Ben’s voice sounded muffled despite being right next to him. Klaus was too focused on the bright light flashing red across the street. Beneath the broken stoplight was a tall figure, smoke flowing out of their cigarette and into the dark night skies. They could be mistaken as a statue, doing nothing but standing there, yet Klaus had the need to hold on to something, afraid he’d be forcefully pulled toward the figure by a magnetic force.

_“Klaus, are you listening to me?”_

His eyes squeezed shut, hiding the tiny flame.

_“Don’t leave them now, Klaus.”_

Feeling lightheaded, he stepped back and held himself up by a lamppost spilling a bright light on him.

_“Time is of the essence, Klaus Hargreeves! Wake up!”_

His eyes squeeze tighter.

_“Just wake up!”_

Living in darkness, he found, was much easier.

_“Please, wake up, Klaus!”_

But was it worth it? To blow out the candle he just lit up?

_“Tick, tick, tick!”_

The honking of a truck jolted Klaus out of his spot and towards the road. His eyes opened. Diego, head still bowed, was about to cross. Cars passed as the red stoplight flashed. Klaus bolted and by the sleeves of Diego’s jacket, he pulled him back onto the sidewalk. They’d both end up on the ground, skin scraped at impact. Ben stood over them stunned with widened eyes.

It was silent until Diego blurted, “What the hell, man!?” and at the same time Klaus yelled, “Fucking look where you’re going, stupid!”

Diego sat up and he gestured towards the road. “The walk sign says go!”

Furiously Klaus sat up as well and shoved Diego’s shoulder. “The stoplights are broken! Maybe you would’ve noticed that if you weren’t crying about your ex-boning partner!”

“Don’t say that! She’s more than just a boning partner, asshole!” Diego shoved back with more force, causing Klaus to lay back down. “And how do you even know about that!?”

Klaus sat back up and shoved him again. “Because I’m your brother and I know when something is wrong!”

“Oh, really now?!

“Yeah!”

“Frankly, I find that hard to believe ‘cause whenever I see you, _brother_ ,” He shoved him back twice as hard. “You’re either stoned, high, or buzzed!”

Klaus shoved back. “Those all mean the same thing!”

“Why are we even going to this ridiculous concert, anyway!?” He returned the shove. “We’ll be two dumbasses surrounded by rich, white old people!”

Ben, neither rich nor white nor old, was about to interject but Klaus waved him off and shoved Diego. “That’s beside the point!”

“What’s the point then, huh!?” Diego whipped his hand but Klaus was quick enough to dodge it.

“I’m trying to be your brother-- I’m trying to cheer you up!” Diego found an opening and got a jab in. Klaus fumed, “Stop hitting me, jackass!”

“You started it!”

“I don’t remember starting it!”

“Maybe you would if all your brain cells were still intact--”

Klaus was now slapping him wildly and Diego responded smartly by doing the same. Not long after, they were rolling on the sidewalk trying to pin each other down just as they did during training at The Umbrella Academy. Embarrassed but very much used to their immaturity, Ben stayed by the sidelines and distracted himself with his newspaper while also apologizing to the pedestrians that passed by.

Diego reigned victorious with his knee digging into Klaus’ shoulder blade and Klaus’ arm in a twist. Klaus surrendered by slamming his free hand on the ground repeatedly.

It took a minute of just sitting and staring at the ground for them to settle down. They stood back on their feet with a few more scars added to their extensive collection. There was snow slush on Klaus’ shoulder that Diego dusted off for him, and Klaus removed the burnt-out cigarette bud sticking out of Diego’s hair.

Silent in each other’s company, the three brothers continued their walk towards their destination feeling more distressed than they did at the beginning of the night. They were all in their own separate mental bubble, perhaps contemplating their life choices and how they got into the awkward family outing in the first place.

Klaus was the first to break his silence. “I think I need to go back to rehab”

It took a moment for anyone to react to his sudden announcement. Diego started, with a shake to his head and a low groan. “Klaus, what I said back there wasn’t meant to--”

“No, no, you were right.” He waved his hand. “I need to get my shit together before I start helping people with their own shit.”

“Elegantly put.” Murmured Ben and Klaus hissed at him.

“Well,” said Diego lowly. “if you think it’ll be good for you, I’ll support it.”

Klaus thinned his lips into a soft smile. “Thanks.”

“And I-- I appreciate that you’re here with me now. Granted, I could’ve done without the whole redecorating my home part, and forcing me to go to a lame concert part, and wrestling in the middle of the sidewalk part. But it’s--” He left his mouth hanging as he searched for the right words. “It’s nice to know you care. About me. And whatever.”

To be appreciated; now that was a rarity. Klaus was not prepared for the triumph feeling blooming excitedly within his chest nor the heavy responsibility it placed on him. He faced away from Diego so he wouldn’t have to witness the cheesy moment of him trying to blink away his glassy eyes. What helped Klaus’ swallowing of emotions was Ben who sarcastically clapped at Diego’s sentiment. He muttered, “Poets, both of you” before disappearing and reappearing further and further away from his brothers.

Now, don’t be mistaken; It was not that Ben did not catch the tiny flame in Klaus’ eyes. He indeed was aware of it but did not care to pay it any attention.

* * *

With their purchased tickets, even one for Ben (Diego would have to work overtime tomorrow), the brothers took their seats in the middle row of the theatre. Ben held his attention towards the violin section, head perking up in search of something or someone on stage.

Klaus leaned over to Ben and jokingly muttered in a voice mimicking an elderly man, “Argh, this song is giving me a migraine!”

“Please, keep quiet for just two seconds.”

He ignored Ben’s request and went on. “Everywhere I go, I’m hearing about these goddamn bells jingling and rocking and what have you.”

Ben glared at him in a justified irritation. “Did you come here just to be annoying?”

He burst out laughing and his impression dropped. “Oh please, I’m annoying wherever I go, it’s kind of my specialty.”

Ben gave up searching for that something or someone on stage and slouched back down in his chair. The brothers allowed the powerful instrumentals to fill in the pause between their banter.

Ben breathed out a sigh. “So you’re going back to rehab?”

He shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You need to be sure of yourself, Klaus.” His tone shifted into something almost desperate yet careful. Like he was debating whether he should have said anything in the first place. “And I mean you have to be absolutely sure of yourself.”

Unsettled, Klaus fiddled with his coat sleeves and stammered, “I- I am.”

Ben looked into Klaus’ eyes and still, the flame was dancing. Ben remained unfazed. “You say that but, I don't know if I believe you,” he confessed with another sigh. “I’ve spent enough time with you to know you become so certain of yourself about one thing, but then the next day that certainty is replaced with hesitance promoted by laziness. For the first time in a really long while, I can finally say I had a good day. A day where I don’t feel bad for not being alive. But what’s tomorrow going to be like, Klaus? Will you still have that same drive you have today? That same spark of hope for what’s to come? Will you continue to care about yourself and the people apart of it? Or will time pass and tomorrow will just be another reset button? Just a never-ending loop of mistakes and careless choices?”

There was an obvious answer to Ben’s questions but the words would not escape Klaus’ throat. ‘ _Don’t worry_ ’, the answer he wanted to hear was ‘ _Don’t worry, I will still care tomorrow_ ’. Instead, Klaus gave an answer as unsatisfying as silence: “I don’t know” because it was the truth.

Ben nodded without much of a reaction. Maybe he’d be more optimistic for tomorrow if their mother had told them stories about what happened after the fairytale creatures reached their happily ever after.

They both focused back on the performance. A beat passed and Klaus pointed over to the violin section of the stage. “She’s over there, by the way. In the very back row.”

Ben gave him a puzzled look before looking over to the direction he was pointing. And there Vanya was, hiding beneath her brunette hair and playing elegantly with the orchestra. It was the first time Ben genuinely smiled all night.

* * *

It was nearly 10 o’clock when Klaus and Ben met up with Vanya at the end of the show. She was flustered, but that may just be her constant state of being. They headed for a late dinner and Diego headed home, too stubborn to face the “betrayer” of their family and her kryptonite AKA the little autobiography she published (which was more of a bio of the lives of her family members rather than herself-- which begs the question, did she even have a life?)

Most of the night consisted of a game of broken telephone; Ben as the constructor of messages and Klaus acting as the delivery. Vanya would respond, and Ben would react, and Klaus would mimic that reaction. It wasn’t the smoothest conversation, but Ben was delighted to be heard by someone smart for a change, and Vanya seemed happy to know she wasn’t completed shut out by her siblings.

By 11:25 PM, they said their goodbyes with a hug and Vanya’s cheeks turned a light pink when given a personalized holiday postcard. By 11:55 PM, Klaus and Ben made it back to Diego’s place where they’d find him sitting on a wooden chair, watching the television mounted on the gym wall. The colourful hues of the screen illuminated the establishment along with the headlights of vehicles passing.

Klaus rolled a stability ball beside Diego and sat on it as he joined in on their viewing of the Time Square countdown to a new year. On screen was the joyous sight of the crowd of thousands surrounding the stage where a new face singer lip-synced to her latest Christmas hit. The cold had the audience mask themselves in wool scarves and toques that reached right below their eyebrows. They were smiling and singing along but were they really happy to be stuck so closely between strangers like a pack of sardines in a kitchen freezer? Frostbite nipping at your nose is cute and all, right until it suffocates your nerves and you find yourself losing your sense of smell. Klaus was probably being too cynical; his last experience and an outdoor performance wasn’t the greatest.

As the clock struck 11:59 PM and Klaus remained undead, I can’t help but wonder how the night would have gone if he did follow the script? To be controlled by a narrative of how the jury of the unknown believed he was supposed to act. Maybe his happily ever after would have ended in a more spontaneous way. Maybe he’d be able to watch the fireworks not on screen, but in real-time. Maybe the developing bruises along his skin would have been replaced with lipstick markings of a stranger, not with a gun, but with a genuine search for a pure relationship. Maybe he wouldn’t be worrying about what tomorrow had to bring.

(🔥) Klaus, with the tiny flame still in his eyes, looked around his quiet surroundings. Diego, dozing off in his chair. Ben, leaning by the boxing ring and staring at the television. Ten more ticks till tomorrow. The crowd counted down in unison.

“10”

At least Klaus chose to be where he was.

“9”

“8”

“7”

“6”

At least he had control.

“5”

“4”

“3”

“2”

“1”

At least he was alive to see the next day.

Happy New Year, Klaus Hargreeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all this was wild to write but I guess that’s what happens when u combine christmas carol, Russian doll, and the umbrella academy. 
> 
> This has also probably been the most complicated and morbid story I’ve written (four death scenes??? yikes!!!) but im pretty proud of how it turned out! 
> 
> consider bothering me on tumblr: benny-phantom
> 
> Thanks for reading and happy holidays!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote two endings and you get to choose which one to read!
> 
> I deem Chapter (5) the hopeful ending 
> 
> Chapter (6) is the goddamnit-are-you-kidding-me ending. 
> 
> The chapters are identical to each other but things change at the very end indicated by the little (🔥) symbol.
> 
> Choose wisely! :)

Let's do this one last time, shall we?

Water spurted wildly out of the facet like a broken sprinkler. The bowl was cracking, the nozzle quaked, a thunderous roar came through the pipes. It was no surprise Griddy’s restroom was just the same after seventeen years. Klaus cupped the pouring water into his hands and splashed it against his face, feeling the odd thrill of being awake but then the stress-relieving realization that, _oh, thank God!_ He’s _actually awake_! A look at the wall mirror told a prewritten story of a gothic circus performer; black mascara tears running down his pale and bony cheeks, hair puffed up and untamed.

The buzzing fly running circles under his nose had landed on the bulky script placed on the floor. It was opened on page 15,330,000 and was ready to be followed by an actor. He slid his hands underneath the booklet, cradled it in his arms, and closely inspected the pages.

It was an overwhelming amount of dialogue. Panicked, he slammed it closed.

Memorization; it wasn’t Klaus’ strong suit.

From where I sit, I see a frazzled Klaus stomp the script into the toilet. He rapidly pulled on the lever as if it were a slot machine overflowing not with golden coins, but with water. “Fuck your script!” he’d yell and flip off the ceiling then the floors because he knew the lady in all black was watching but wasn’t actually sure where she resided. Her offer was enticing, Klaus will give her that; predetermined decisions would ensure a safe life to live, and a worthy death surrounded by his family. But what it did not ensure was a worthy life spent _alive_ with them.

There was one thing he and the lady in all black both agreed on; Klaus’ life is more important to other people than he realized.

Free will couldn't be that difficult to control, right? All he had to do was consider his choices carefully, keep a hunky-dory outlook on life, and care a bit more about his life and the people in it.

Carl stared in horror at the flooding floors he now had to clean too.

“Ah shit.” Klaus lamely spread toilet paper onto the floor, resulting in more of a mess than they began with. Making careful choices; it was easier said than done and surviving the night one last time would be no different. At least Carl had something more to do. 

He didn't seem to appreciate his updated chores list as he chased Klaus out of the washroom with a broom. Upbeat music from the jukebox echoed through the dim hallway and in an interesting coincidence, the beat matched the flickering ceiling lights. Klaus sighed happily when greeted with the melancholy scene of an empty diner not destroyed by something unknown. He beelined for the very-alive-Diego, fiddling with a butter knife and judging its blunt ends.

Trapped in Klaus’ sudden embrace, Diego awkwardly responded by patting his back and muttering, “What the hell is this? What are you doing?’

“Hugging.” Klaus swooned, tightening his grip. “I’m hugging you.”

“Are you h--”

“I’m not high.”

“When did you--”

“I got out of rehab two days ago,” he quickly answered. “I didn’t tell you because I forgot your phone number. I didn’t visit your place because I thought you were boning your girlfriend.” Diego choked on air at that last part, and Klaus was nice enough to ignore it. He instead asked, “Your little hut isn’t occupied is it? I’d love to stay awhile.”

Diego with a small twitch at the corner of his lips, took a closer look into Klaus’ eyes; there was something different. They were still wide and surrounded by darkened circles, but a flame that had blown out long ago reignited itself. It was smaller than it was all those years back but with a little more time and a little more fuel, it will evolve into so much more. Yes, maybe it was this hypothetical tiny flame in Klaus’ eye that had Diego almost genuinely smile.

There was a _yelp_ followed by a _thud_ that ruined the endearing brotherly moment. Down the hallway towards the washroom was a fallen customer who had slipped on the wet floors. Klaus dragged Diego as he bolted out of Griddy’s without dinner to occupy their growling stomachs, but luckily they’d find a hot dog stand to accommodate their hunger during their stroll along the sidewalks.

A tinsel tree on display dressed in shimmering green lights had attracted Klaus to enter a humble little memorabilia store. The joyful tune of Jingle Bells danced throughout the store as Klaus admired the bundle of mini trees ready to be bought and sold. Diego reluctantly followed him inside minutes after receiving a phone call, and he stayed quiet for most of Klaus’ shopping spree. Too pouty was he to confess his barely beating broken heart caused by one Eudora Patch.

Their walk back to Diego’s car was an awkward one; Klaus hesitated a total of five times to bring up his brother’s obvious moping. During the drive, he hesitated three times more before just giving up entirely and allowing the silence to take over the rest of the ride. In defence to Klaus; the Hargreeves, in general, were never the greatest at giving nor receiving emotional support. That was yet another lesson Sir Reginald neglected to teach his children.

Still, Klaus kept smiling.

* * *

Klaus welcomed himself into Diego’s humble abode by aggressively slapping the tree skeleton thing off his kitchen counter, as if it personally insulted him and their mother, and replaced it with the new and pretty one bought with Diego’s money at the store. Instead of yelling at Klaus for making a mess, Diego went straight to bed and dozed off. Klaus settled on his armchair, a feather pen in his hand danced along the postal cards he had also purchased. One was for Allison (her address was leaked online), another was for Vanya (he’d bump into her eventually), another for Luther (it was the thought that counted), and another for Five (he was still out there somewhere).

“Wow, bro--” The sudden voice by Klaus’ ear had him jolt out of his seat as if he had just been tased. He should have been used to Ben’s disappearing and reappearing act--and he was--but it never stopped his panicking heart barging out of his ribcage.

“I’m really impressed that you’re doing something this thoughtful,” continued Ben, ignoring his brother’s distress. Closing the newspaper in hand, Ben looked over Klaus’ shoulder, admiring the calligraphy he designed. “I’d think this would be too boring of a New Year for you.”

“Oh, whatever do you mean? Embracing the Hallmark holiday spirit is my specialty!”

Ben rolled his eyes at his brother’s sarcasm but a smirk remained. “Diego should learn a thing or two.” He glanced over to the napping Number Two, chest rising and falling. “What’s wrong with him, anyway?”

“He’s mourning over the one that got away.” Klaus pouted his lower lip in pity. “Say, Ben, do you happen to know a remedy for a broken heart?”

“Chamomile tea,” he suggested, sounding way too sure of himself. “And a good pep talk, probably.”

The mention of talking had Klaus’ shoulders tense and made something poke needles from the inside of his stomach. It demanded attention but Klaus shook his head and pinched his eyes closed before he could give in. “Yeah, maybe.” He mumbled in response to Ben’s suggestion. He opened his eyes back and it landed Ben’s newspaper. Snatching it out of his possession, a bright smile emerged when flipping to the right page. “Or maybe,” he showcased the newspaper to Ben, “We could take a little trip.”

* * *

Diego, a jean jacket over his sleepwear which comprised of a sleeveless shirt and boxing shorts, had his head bowed, his shoulders deflated, and a rain cloud followed him wherever he dragged his feet like he was in an episode of _Charlie Brown_. Klaus, on the other spectrum of confusing and uncontrollable emotions, skipped towards their destination as if there were springs attached to the soles of his worn-out sneakers. Waving at strangers and greeting them a happy new year wasn’t as joyous as he imagined, seeing as most of them either sneered or yelled disgruntled threats back. No matter, Klaus kept smiling. He had to keep smiling. He had to keep happy. Even if he was faking it, he just had to get through this night.

It was when they were approaching a crosswalk, the spring beneath his soles unhinged and he was suddenly walking slower. He let out laboured breaths… was he always this tired? His aching toothy smirk dissolved when the churning of his stomach welcomed itself back with a mighty vengeance. Tightly he wrapped his fingers around his wrist in an attempt to stop his sudden jittering.

“Klaus?” Ben’s voice sounded muffled despite being right next to him. Klaus was too focused on the bright light flashing red across the street. Beneath the broken stoplight was a tall figure, smoke flowing out of their cigarette and into the dark night skies. They could be mistaken as a statue, doing nothing but standing there, yet Klaus had the need to hold on to something, afraid he’d be forcefully pulled toward the figure by a magnetic force.

_“Klaus, are you listening to me?”_

His eyes squeezed shut, hiding the tiny flame.

_“Don’t leave them now, Klaus.”_

Feeling lightheaded, he stepped back and held himself up by a lamppost spilling a bright light on him.

_“Time is of the essence, Klaus Hargreeves! Wake up!”_

His eyes squeeze tighter.

_“Just wake up!”_

Living in darkness, he found, was much easier.

_“Please, wake up, Klaus!”_

But was it worth it? To blow out the candle he just lit up?

_“Tick, tick, tick!”_

The honking of a truck jolted Klaus out of his spot and towards the road. His eyes opened. Diego, head still bowed, was about to cross. Cars passed as the red stoplight flashed. Klaus bolted and by the sleeves of Diego’s jacket, he pulled him back onto the sidewalk. They’d both end up on the ground, skin scraped at impact. Ben stood over them stunned with widened eyes.

It was silent until Diego blurted, “What the hell, man!?” and at the same time Klaus yelled, “Fucking look where you’re going, stupid!”

Diego sat up and he gestured towards the road. “The walk sign says go!”

Furiously Klaus sat up as well and shoved Diego’s shoulder. “The stoplights are broken! Maybe you would’ve noticed that if you weren’t crying about your ex-boning partner!”

“Don’t say that! She’s more than just a boning partner, asshole!” Diego shoved back with more force, causing Klaus to lay back down. “And how do you even know about that!?”

Klaus sat back up and shoved him again. “Because I’m your brother and I know when something is wrong!”

“Oh, really now?!

“Yeah!”

“Frankly, I find that hard to believe ‘cause whenever I see you, brother,” He shoved him back twice as hard. “You’re either stoned, high, or buzzed!”

Klaus shoved back. “Those all mean the same thing!”

“Why are we even going to this ridiculous concert, anyway!?” He returned the shove. “We’ll be two dumbasses surrounded by rich, white old people!”

Ben, neither rich nor white nor old, was about to interject but Klaus waved him off and shoved Diego. “That’s besides the point!”

“What’s the point then, huh!?” Diego whipped his hand but Klaus was quick enough to dodge it.

“I’m trying to be your brother-- I’m trying to cheer you up!” Diego found an opening and got a jab in. Klaus fumed, “Stop hitting me, jackass!”

“You started it!”

“I don’t remember starting it!”

“Maybe you would if all your brain cells were still intact--”

Klaus was now slapping him wildly and Diego responded smartly by doing the same. Not long after, they were rolling on the sidewalk trying to pin each other down just as they did during training at The Umbrella Academy. Embarrassed but very much used to their immaturity, Ben stayed by the sidelines and distracted himself with his newspaper while also apologizing to the pedestrians that passed by.

Diego reigned victorious with his knee digging into Klaus’ shoulder blade and Klaus’ arm in a twist. Klaus surrendered by slamming his free hand on the ground repeatedly.

It took a minute of just sitting and staring at the ground for them to settle down. They stood back on their feet with a few more scars added to their extensive collection. There was snow slush on Klaus’ shoulder that Diego dusted off for him, and Klaus removed the burnt-out cigarette bud sticking out of Diego’s hair.

Silent in each other’s company, the three brothers continued their walk towards their destination feeling more distressed than they did at the beginning of the night. They were all in their own separate mental bubble, perhaps contemplating their life choices and how they got into the awkward family outing in the first place.

Klaus was the first to break his silence. “I think I need to go back to rehab”

It took a moment for anyone to react to his sudden announcement. Diego started, with a shake to his head and a low groan. “Klaus, what I said back there wasn’t meant to--”

“No, no, you were right.” He waved his hand. “I need to get my shit together before I start helping people with their own shit.”

“Elegantly put.” Murmured Ben and Klaus hissed at him.

“Well,” said Diego lowly. “if you think it’ll be good for you, I’ll support it.”

Klaus thinned his lips into a soft smile. “Thanks.”

“And I-- I appreciate that you’re here with me now. Granted, I could’ve done without the whole redecorating my home part, and forcing me to go to a lame concert part, and wrestling in the middle of the sidewalk part. But it’s--” He left his mouth hanging as he searched for the right words. “It’s nice to know you care. About me. And whatever.”

To be appreciated; now that was a rarity. Klaus was not prepared for the triumph feeling blooming excitedly within his chest nor the heavy responsibility it placed on him. He faced away from Diego so he wouldn’t have to witness the cheesy moment of him trying to blink away his glassy eyes. What helped Klaus’ swallowing of emotions was Ben who sarcastically clapped at Diego’s sentiment. He muttered, “Poets, both of you” before disappearing and reappearing further and further away from his brothers.

Now, don’t be mistaken; It was not that Ben did not catch the tiny flame in Klaus’ eyes. He indeed was aware of it but did not care to pay it any attention.

* * *

With their purchased tickets, even one for Ben (Diego would have to work overtime tomorrow), the brothers took their seats in the middle row of the theatre. Ben held his attention towards the violin section, head perking up in search of something or someone on stage.

Klaus leaned over to Ben and jokingly muttered in a voice mimicking an elderly man, “Argh, this song is giving me a migraine!”

“Please, keep quiet for just two seconds.”

He ignored Ben’s request and went on. “Everywhere I go, I’m hearing about these goddamn bells jingling and rocking and what have you.”

Ben glared at him in a justified irritation. “Did you come here just to be annoying?”

He burst out laughing and his impression dropped. “Oh please, I’m annoying wherever I go, it’s kind of my specialty.”

Ben gave up searching for that something or someone on stage and slouched back down in his chair. The brothers allowed the powerful instrumentals to fill in the pause between their banter.

Ben breathed out a sigh. “So you’re going back to rehab?”

He shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You need to be sure of yourself, Klaus.” His tone shifted into something almost desperate yet careful. Like he was debating whether he should have said anything in the first place. “And I mean you have to be absolutely sure of yourself.”

Unsettled, Klaus fiddled with his coat sleeves and stammered, “I- I am.”

Ben looked into Klaus’ eyes and still, the flame was dancing. Ben remained unfazed. “You say that but, I don't know if I believe you,” he confessed with another sigh. “I’ve spent enough time with you to know you become so certain of yourself about one thing, but then the next day that certainty is replaced with hesitance promoted by laziness. For the first time in a really long while, I can finally say I had a good day. A day where I don’t feel bad for not being alive. But what’s tomorrow going to be like, Klaus? Will you still have that same drive you have today? That same spark of hope for what’s to come? Will you continue to care about yourself and the people apart of it? Or will time pass and tomorrow will just be another reset button? Just a never-ending loop of mistakes and careless choices?”

There was an obvious answer to Ben’s questions but the words would not escape Klaus’ throat. ‘ _Don’t worry_ ’, the answer he wanted to hear was ‘ _Don’t worry, I will still care tomorrow_ ’. Instead, Klaus gave an answer as unsatisfying as silence: “I don’t know” because it was the truth.

Ben nodded without much of a reaction. Maybe he’d be more optimistic for tomorrow if their mother had told them stories about what happened after the fairytale creatures reached their happily ever after.

They both focused back on the performance. A beat passed and Klaus pointed over to the violin section of the stage. “She’s over there, by the way. In the very back row.”

Ben gave him a puzzled look before looking over to the direction he was pointing. And there Vanya was, hiding beneath her brunette hair and playing elegantly with the orchestra. It was the first time Ben genuinely smiled all night.

* * *

It was nearly 10 o’clock when Klaus and Ben met up with Vanya at the end of the show. She was flustered, but that may just be her constant state of being. They headed for a late dinner and Diego headed home, too stubborn to face the “betrayer” of their family and her kryptonite AKA the little autobiography she published (which was more of a bio of the lives of her family members rather than herself-- which begs the question, did she even have a life?)

Most of the night consisted of a game of broken telephone; Ben as the constructor of messages and Klaus acting as the delivery. Vanya would respond, and Ben would react, and Klaus would mimic that reaction. It wasn’t the smoothest conversation, but Ben was delighted to be heard by someone smart for a change, and Vanya seemed happy to know she wasn’t completed shut out by her siblings.

By 11:25 PM, they said their goodbyes with a hug and Vanya’s cheeks turned a light pink when given a personalized holiday postcard. By 11:55 PM, Klaus and Ben made it back to Diego’s place where they’d find him sitting on a wooden chair, watching the television mounted on the gym wall. The colourful hues of the screen illuminated the establishment along with the headlights of vehicles passing.

Klaus rolled a stability ball beside Diego and sat on it as he joined in on their viewing of the Time Square countdown to a new year. On screen was the joyous sight of the crowd of thousands surrounding the stage where a new face singer lip-synced to her latest Christmas hit. The cold had the audience mask themselves in wool scarves and toques that reached right below their eyebrows. They were smiling and singing along but were they really happy to be stuck so closely between strangers like a pack of sardines in a kitchen freezer? Frostbite nipping at your nose is cute and all, right until it suffocates your nerves and you find yourself losing your sense of smell. Klaus was probably being too cynical; his last experience and an outdoor performance wasn’t the greatest.

As the clock struck 11:59 PM and Klaus remained undead, I can’t help but wonder how the night would have gone if he did follow the script? To be controlled by a narrative of how the jury of the unknown believed he was supposed to act. Maybe his happily ever after would have ended in a more spontaneous way. Maybe he’d be able to watch the fireworks not on screen, but in real-time. Maybe the developing bruises along his skin would have been replaced with lipstick markings of a stranger, not with a gun, but with a genuine search for a pure relationship. Maybe he wouldn’t be worrying about what tomorrow had to bring.

(🔥) Klaus, with the tiny flame still in his eyes, looked around his quiet surroundings. Diego, dozing off in his chair. Ben, leaning by the boxing ring and staring at the television. Ten more ticks till tomorrow. The crowd counted down in unison.

“10”

At least Klaus chose to be where he was.

“9”

“8”

“7”

“6”

At least he had control.

“5”

“4”

“3”

“2”

Or, at least, the illusion of it.

“1”

An ear-piercing banging noise brought Klaus’ head to lift back up and his eyes widened. Wild screams set alarms in Klaus’ head, but when taking a frantic look around, he realized people were cheering. In the sky, a bright explosion of red accompanied the once isolated moon. Another pop came, then another, then another.

“Congratulations on surviving another year, dude!”

He would have extended the sentiment back if he hadn’t been squinting at something in the distance…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all this was wild to write but I guess that’s what happens when u combine christmas carol, Russian doll, and the umbrella academy. 
> 
> This has also probably been the most complicated and morbid story I’ve written (four death scenes??? yikes!!!) but im pretty proud of how it turned out! 
> 
> consider bothering me on tumblr: benny-phantom
> 
> Thanks for reading and happy holidays!


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